Kolybel'naya
by Aribh1306
Summary: It was as if her mind was hallucinating while her body was immobilized. Just like she would feel had she been dreaming.
1. The Malfoy Manor

For the _flapper_ and the _princess_, the girls who inspire me to write.

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**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 01: The Malfoy Manor  
**

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Bellatrix Lestrange was a determined woman. When she joined the Death Eaters, she was determined to be loyal to her master until the very end; when she discovered that her cousin Sirius ran away from home to go live with that Potter boy, she was determined to make his life a living hell after that. When she heard about the Dark Lord's return, she was determined to do anything to join him again... And she managed to accomplish all those things. Now, as she stood in the middle of her sister's drawing room, wand pointed at the girl sprawled on the floor and almost hysterical screams of accusation escaping from her lips, Bellatrix Lestrange was determined to discover how that Mudblood had gotten her filthy hands on the sword of Gryffindor.

"We found it... We found it! _PLEASE!_" The girl sobbed, curling up into a ball as she tried to recover from the Cruciatus curse.

The woman took a deep breath, putting her wand back in its holster and bringing her hand up to the handle of a small knife hanging on her belt. Lestrange had never used it before, as it seemed to be useless when she could simply use her wand to torture someone, but now, as she watched the dirty Mudblood, she thought that maybe little Ms. Granger would enjoy its blade... After all, a Muggle weapon for a Muggle girl.

"You'll tell me," Bellatrix whispered, approaching the younger witch, the heels of her boots making loud noises that echoed in the room when they hit the wooden floor. "How you found it." Granger looked up, staring at the woman with her tear-filled eyes and red face. "How did the sword." She kneeled down next to Hermione's body, grabbing the girl's hand, lifting it from the floor. "End up in your filthy little hands?"

"Please." Hermione tried to pull her arm from Bellatrix, but the witch kept a strong grasp on it, yanking and pressing it to the floor once again. "I don't know!"

"Little Miss Granger." Lestrange chuckled, pulling the knife from her belt and bringing it to the other's arm. The younger witch's eyes widened and she tried to get away from it. "I've heard about you... The insufferable Know-It-All Mudblood... You always know the answers to all the questions, my dear." The tip of the blade was now lingering only a few millimeters from the skin of her forearm. "So, I bet you know the answer to this one. Come on, make Bella proud!"

"I have no... N-No idea!"

"Oh, wrong answer," whispered Bellatrix with a disappointed look on her face. "Ten points from Gryffindor." A wicked smile spread across her lips as she lowered the blade, dragging its tip across the girl's forearm. Hermione bit down on her lower lip, trying hard not to cry out; not to give that madwoman the joy of hearing her scream, but it only took a moment until her voice came out of her mouth, almost unwillingly. Lestrange's laugh was the now mixed with the sound of her own scream in her ears and the girl didn't know what terrified her more... The disturbing sound, the burning on her forearm or proximity of the woman. "Shall we try again?"

"P-Please..."

The Death Eater tutted and moved the knife again, making the burning pain shoot up through Granger's arm. More screams, more laughs. The younger witch was now was trying to free herself from her torturer by kicking her legs and trying to hit Bellatrix, but the other didn't seem to notice anything as she was concentrated on carving something into her skin.

"Tell me. Tell me, Mudblood." The woman stopped once again and Hermione turned her head to look at her own arm. There was an angry red mark where the other had hurt her but her blurry vision made it impossible for her to read what was written there. "How." The hand that was holding her wrist grasped her hair, yanking her head back so that she was staring straight into the Death Eater's face. "Did." Bellatrix's face was now very close to hers. Her dark eyes seemed to be burning into hers. "You." The woman's breath against her face was starting to make her feel sick. "Put." A long nail dug into her cheek, running down it slowly. "Your hands." She grabbed Hermione's chin, letting her nails dig into it. "On that sword?"

"I don't know," the girl whispered, trying to move her head.

Lestrange stared at her for a moment before letting go of her face. The younger witch took a deep breath when the other finally moved away from her, but it was a matter of time until Bellatrix's thin hand hit her hard across the face. Granger whimpered, feeling her cheek burn.

"Enough of this." Bella pushed herself up and put the dagger on her belt once again before getting her wand. "Tell me how you got it?"

"I already said we found it!" said the Gryffindor, her voice so weak it was almost impossible to be heard. "We didn't take it from anywhere!"

"LIAR! You got into my vault, that's the only way this sword could come into your possession!" Bellatrix yelled. Hermione could see a little movement from the corner of her eye and finally became aware that the Malfoys were still in the room, along with Greyback, watching as that madwoman tortured her. "What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

"Bella..." the weak voice of Narcissa Malfoy sounded from the corner of the room, but the woman didn't say anything else after receiving a deadly look from her sister.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! _CRUCIO!_" The woman stood still as she watched the girl contort on the floor, screaming as the curse went through her body. "How did you get into my vault?" She screamed, finally lifting the curse. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

"We only met him tonight!" sobbed Hermione. "We've never been inside your vault... It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

"A copy?" Lestrange laughed out loud. "What a likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!" Lucius Malfoy spoke, moving towards them. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us if the sword is real or not!"

The girl heard the hurried footsteps of Draco and waited. During the few minutes while the boy was gone, both his parents, Greyback and Lestrange stayed in silence, the only sound that was heard in the room being the noisy breathing of the Gryffindor on the floor.

"Ah, goblin!" said Bellatrix as soon as the footsteps of the younger Malfoy and Griphook were heard again. "Tell me: is this the real sword of Gryffindor? The one that was supposed to be inside my vault in your bank?"

Hermione turned her head to follow the goblin as he crossed to room and stood in front of the Death Eater, taking the sword into his small hands. Griphook seemed to caress the blade while his eyes watched it carefully. His fingers traced the name of its original owner that was written on the polished metal and, then, the shiny rubies that adorned its handle. The creature's concentration was broken as a loud 'crack' sound was heard from somewhere below the room. Draco jumped as he heard it and his aunt's head quickly followed it.

"What was that?" shouted Lucius. "Did you hear that? What was that sound in the cellar? Draco...No, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

Once again, the younger and terrified Malfoy left the room. Bellatrix looked up to the goblin once again.

"Well?" said Lestrange. "Is it the true sword?"

Griphook hummed, caressing the blade once again, before speaking. "No, it's a fake."

"Are you sure?" The woman sounded relieved. "Quite sure?"

"Yes."

"Good." A small laugh escaped from her mouth as she waved her hand and a cut appeared across the creature's cheek, making him drop the sword. "And now... We call the Dark Lord."

Hermione watched as Bellatrix pushed back her sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark on her forearm before touching it with her long, pale finger. Everything was over now. If either Lestrange or Greyback killed her, then Voldemort would as soon as he arrived at the Malfoy Manor... And not only her, but Harry, Ron and Griphook. And she couldn't do anything to prevent it from happening.

"I think," the woman said, touching the girl's face with the tip of her boot. "We can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

Before the werewolf could even express his satisfaction, a yell of "NO!" was heard and someone burst through the drawing room's door. Everything became a blurred scene with flashes of lights and screams for a while, before Hermione felt a hand grabbing her by the hair and yanking her up. It was Bellatrix, and now she was holding the Gryffindor against her body, pulling her head back and pressing her dagger to the girl's neck.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!" The younger witch wasn't paying attention to anything now. Her head was spinning and her ears were ringing. The only thing she could feel was Bellatrix's blade cutting through the skin of her neck. "Drop your wands! Drop them or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is! I said drop it!"

"All right!" It was Harry's voice, followed by the sound of something falling to the floor. Their wands.

"Good! Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!" Lestrange laughed. "Now, Cissy! I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you'd done tonight."

Before anyone could move, an odd noise was heard from above and, suddenly, Bellatrix threw Hermione aside, ducking away from the center of the room. The girl, even though she was only barely conscious, heard a loud noise from something heavy hitting the floor and the enraged scream that came from Lestrange, just as she felt various pieces of what seemed to be glass falling on top of her body. The commotion began once again. The voices of the Malfoys, Bellatrix, Greyback, her friends and even a little voice that sounded familiar to her were now mixed with the sound of spells and curses hitting the walls and the floor. Hermione opened her eyes and was only able to see the feet of everyone in the room running up and down the place... She was close to the windows now, away from the fight, but not so far away that she could escape from an errant spell if there was one.

A pair of polished black shoes stopped right next to her head and, looking up, she saw a very scared Draco Malfoy looking down at her. His grey eyes were wide open and his lips trembled as he ducked from a spell that went into his direction and which, instead, hit a moldered piece that was hanging right behind him. A small shriek escaped from his mouth as he ran from that spot and into his mother's direction while Hermione curled up to protect herself from the broken glass that was now falling onto her. Something a little heavier than the pieces of glass fell on the top of her head and bounced on the floor, making a loud, metallic noise as it hit the wood. She could still feel something that felt like a long, cold thread tangled in her hair and fingers and looked up to see what it was...

There was, indeed, a thread over her... All right, it was not really a thread, but more like a silver chain, and, hanging on it, there was a silver metallic piece that seemed familiar to her. The girl pulled on the chain and got a better look on the object. Its complicated design formed two circles and, inside the smaller circle, there was a tiny, delicate hourglass. Actually, the hourglass was broken, and its purplish sand was now dripping from its inside.

It took a few seconds for Hermione to notice what had just happened. She was on the floor, with the chain of a broken time-turned wrapped against her while a duel between her friends and the witches and wizards who wanted to kill her was going on inside the same room.

Unfortunately, it took less time for the broken object to react.

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**A/N:** as I said, here is the new Tomione fic. Same old time-travel plot and all, but I hope I manage to make it work in a better way than my old one. The title means "lullaby" in russian. A friend of mine sent me a russian song with that name and I fell in love with it... And this song ended up inspiring me to write this fic, so it ended up as the title. Yey. The summary: "It was as if her mind was hallucinating while her body was immobilized. Just like she would feel had she been dreaming." is how the REM sleep {one of the dreams stages, where most of the dreams happen} is described in my neurophysiology book: an hallucinating mind trapped into a immobilized body, because... well, our mind really does hallucinate while we dream, it works a lot while we do it, but our body is completely immobilized... The only muscles that work are the ones that control our eyes {that's why that stage is called REM sleep. Rapid Eye Movement sleep}.

Hope you guys liked it and... Reviews are always welcome, you know that.

**Ari.**


	2. 1944

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 02: 1944  
**

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The drawing room was still there. The same furniture; the same wooden floor; the same creamy walls; the same shadows cast by the moonlight that streamed in through the big windows behind her. But, at the same time, it was different... There was no broken glass, the chandelier was still hanging on the ceiling, casting sparkling lights across the room and there was no noise; no screams; no sounds of explosions. Also, the only person in the room was the girl lying on the floor, almost unable to move due to the pain that was still haunting her body.

Hermione let a shuddering breath escape from her lips as she looked around, feeling panic rising inside her chest. She was inside the Malfoy Manor but... When? It was obvious that she had time-traveled by accident, the broken time-turner by her side being proof of that, along with the unharmed drawing room, but to when did she go? A few hours ago? A few days? Or, worse, a few years? The mere thought of traveling back more than a couple of days already made the Gryffindor feel sick and almost want to faint but, fighting this urge, she managed to get up, staying on her feet while gripping on the dark velvet curtain.

There was no sign to tell her how far back she had gone... Or at least none that she could see. Breathing deeply, Hermione let go of the curtain and took a step, only to fall due to her weakened legs. She grasped a small table to keep from falling to the ground, but ended up knocking down a couple of portraits that were on it. Oh, that was new. That table wasn't there before. It was now on the same spot where Draco had stood a few minutes ago. Cursing under her breath, the witch picked the portraits up and organized them on the table before standing.

She raised her left hand, where the silver chain was entwined, and stared at the broken time-turner while trying to hold back the despair that was taking over her. Her attention was taken from the object when she heard a sound coming from the corridor... Footsteps; specifically, the sound of the heels of boots hitting the floor. Hermione panicked, imagining Bellatrix bursting through the door at any second with her wand pointed at her, shooting the Cruciatus curse.

"Abraxas, dear, is that you?" a female voice called. The footsteps stopped and the Gryffindor heard fabric rustle before they started again. "Abraxas?"

Hermione looked around; her breathing quickening at each step the woman outside took. There was nowhere she could run to and it wasn't as if she could run... No, not with that broken body of hers.

"Think, Hermione, think!" the girl whispered, hearing the footsteps getting even closer to the drawing room's door.

There was only one thing she could try and the possibility of it going wrong was huge... Not only because the house could be protected by an Anti-Dispparition Jinx, but also because she was exhausted and to apparate in that condition was almost the same as asking for a beautiful splinching. But it was the only thing she could do.

"Darling?"

_Destination._

"Could you please answer me...?"

_Determination_.

"Abraxas?"

_Deliberation._

"Abraxas, stop that right now!"

A blonde woman opened the door and stared at the empty drawing room while clutching to her furry overcoat and asking herself if, by any chance, she was starting to imagine inexistent sounds inside her house.

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Hermione yelled as she felt her face hit the pavement but stayed still for a few minutes before rolling onto her back and staring at the dark, cloudy sky above her. The girl groaned as she felt pain shooting up through her body and asked herself if she had gotten splinched. She moved her toes, kicked her legs, stretched out her arms and flexed her fingers. Everything was in their proper places. Her hands reached her face, feeling up her bruised features and making sure that everything was there, even her eyebrows. No splinching. That was good. At least one good thing.

The witch remained on the ground for a while, just listening to the sound of people talking a few meters away from her, or a car driving down the nearest street... There was also a song being played somewhere in the background. It sounded so happy, a smile almost appeared on her bloodied lips, but, instead, made her realize that she was in a public place and the best thing to do now was to get up and walk away. And that was what she did: Hermione got up on her feet, balancing her weight on her wobbly legs and putting her hands on the brick wall of the building next to her. Her head was spinning now that she was in an upright position and the witch was sure she would faint or vomit as she closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

The voices on the background were growing louder, and were ringing in her ears. She couldn't really distinguish if they belonged to a man or a woman. The only thing the Gryffindor knew was that whoever it was, they were getting closer to her... And they could be anyone: a random Muggle tourist, a good wizard, a dark wizard, a burglar... And she couldn't defend herself.

"I told her it was madness," one of the voices said. "But she said it was impossible to prevent Tommy from enlisting..."

"You know she's right. He's of age already; that means he can get into the army if he wants to..." This voice was stronger and deeper; maybe it belonged to a man.

"But he's only a child! He's eighteen, for God's sake!"

"I know, but if he wants to..."

"_Oh_ _God_."

"What?"

Hermione turned her head but was only able to see the blurred image of two people standing a few meters from her, in the mouth of the alley she was in. One of them was tall, with broad shoulders while the other was shorter, with a slim silhouette. The smaller one gasped and hurried in her direction and, in a second, the girl could see a better, but still somewhat blurred, image of the person's face... It was a woman with blonde, curly hair and warm blue eyes that was now looking at her with a terribly worried look on her pretty face. Granger opened her mouth to say something but nothing useful came to her mind.

"Are you alright?" the other person, who she could now see that was a man, asked.

"Of course she's not alright!" the woman said, cupping Hermione's cheeks with her gloved hands. "What happened to you?"

"I..." _'I was tortured by a madwoman just a few minutes ago.'_

"How old are you?" the man asked.

"Alexei, not now...!"

"How old are you, girl?" The witch finally noticed how his voice carried a strange accent that was clearly not from anywhere inside England. "Please, answer me."

_'What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!'_ Bellatrix voice echoed in her head and she shook her head violently but was soon stopped by the woman, who was still holding her in place.

"My dear, please, don't do that! We won't hurt you!" she shushed her, letting her fingers caress Hermione's face. "Please, tell us how old you are..."

"Eight-Eighteen..." the girl stuttered, feeling the tears she was holding back until now finally running down her cheeks. "I'm eighteen..."

"Did someone do it to you?"

"We need to help her, Alexei. We need to take her..."

The man, Alexei, nodded before approaching them and putting his arm around the witch's waist to help her to stand. The nameless woman backed away a little before going to her other side and entwining her arm with hers, guiding the girl. That way, the couple managed to help her to walk without tripping or making too much effort.

Hermione didn't pay attention to where they were taking her. The only thing she knew was that she was mad enough to trust two complete strangers and these two said strangers were, at least, helping her – or making her think they were helping. Her head was too dizzy and her body was so exhausted, that this was the only information she could register because before everything turned dark.

When the girl opened her eyes once again, she saw a grayish ceiling. Moving her head slightly in order to look around, Hermione noticed the rest of the room she was in had the same grayish tone, making it look rather old and unclean. This effect was increased by the flickering light that illuminated the place from a malfunctioning light bulb. As she examined the place with her eyes, the witch noticed it seemed to be some kind of hospital room or, at least, a small infirmary if she took notice of the fact that there was a cabinet filled with what looked like medicine bottles and medical instruments in the room.

Hermione didn't move more than that, afraid that, if she did, the pain would come back. So, she just waited for someone to appear and tell her exactly what was going on and where she was... It didn't take too long for that to happen, as, after a few minutes, the door opened and a tall man in a white coat walked in.

"Ah, you're awake." The accent in his voice was the same one she had heard on the street before passing out. So he was one of the people who helped her. "We were worried..."

"What happened?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

"We found you on the street," he explained. "My wife and I. You were hurt and we decided to take you to a safe place so we could treat you but you passed out before we got here."

"H-Here...?"

"You're in an orphanage, my dear." The man gave her a sad smile. "My wife and I work here."

Hermione stared at his face for a while, trying to get to know his features. The man had dark red hair and light green eyes, there were a few freckles on his nose and cheeks and his thin lips were now pressed in a line, making a worried frown appear on his face. The girl's examination of his face was interrupted when the door opened once again and a woman walked in. Even if the witch had only had a short time to look into the face of the person who helped her at the alley, she recognized the woman's blonde hair and gentle face.

"Oh, she's awake!" A relieved sigh left her lips as she placed her hand on her chest. "Thanks goodness... We were worried about you." She approached them and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're safe now. You're in an orphanage and I can assure you we'll take good care of you here... By the way, my name is Martha and this is my husband, Alexei."

"What about you?" the man asked. "What's your name?"

"Hermione..." The witch stopped talking, trying to think of what to say. She had no idea of where and when she was... The girl could not risk giving herself away. "Hermione Elston." She picked the first surname that came to her mind.

"Hermione Elston?" the woman repeated, looking at her husband for a while. "Alright, I have to tell this to Mrs. Cole. Oh, yes, Mrs. Margareth Cole is the matron of the orphanage. We talked to her and she accepted having you here even if you're eighteen..."

"M-Martha...? May I call you Martha?"

"Of course."

"Which... Could you tell me which day is today?" asked Hermione, biting her bottom lip as she braced herself for the answer.

"Can't you remember?" Alexei arched an eyebrow.

"Come on, dear, it's not surprising. Not after being in the state we found her... It's the third of August of 1944."

The girl stayed still, restraining the evidence of her panic. She had definitely traveled back in time but not just a few hours or days... She had traveled fifty four years in the past and now Hermione Granger was alive before her own parents were ever born. She had escaped from a war just to fall in the middle of another one... Or, worse, in the middle of two wars: World War Two and the First Great Wizarding War. She was lost in a different time, away from home, away from her parents and away from her friends. She was all alone.

"Are you all right?"

Hermione had to do something. She couldn't stay in the Muggle world if she wanted to go back home. The girl needed to get back to the wizarding world, back to the only place where she knew she would be safe from both wars and where she might find the help she needed to go back to her original time.

"Hermione, are you all right?"

The witch shook her head and looked at Martha, who was watching her with worry.

"Y-Yes, I'm sorry, I must have dozed off..." the girl whispered, finally lifting herself up so she would be sitting on the bed and looked at the couple. "You said the matron would allow me to stay here, even if I was eighteen..."

"Yes. You see, we do not have much money, especially now with the war, but we agreed that we couldn't let you rot on the street," explained Martha. "And as we had one of our older children leaving last week, we have a free spot for you..."

"No, you said 'even if you were eighteen'." Hermione tilted her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm... I'm not eighteen."

"But you said, when we found you..." mumbled Martha, looking confused and making the girl regret lying to her, even if it was a necessary lie that would help her to get where she wanted.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I must have... I must have said it wrong..."

"Don't worry about that, dear." The woman put a hand on her arm, as if to comfort her, and smiled gently. "So... You're seventeen and not eighteen, right?"

"Exactly."

"Good. I need to tell this to Mrs. Cole." Martha bit down on her bottom lip before getting up. "I think you should get some more sleep, my dear. As long as you're here, you can be sure we'll take good care of you."

"Thank you, ma'am." The girl nodded her head as she watched the woman smile back to her before leaving the room, sharing a long look with the red haired man.

"She's right, you know?" he whispered. "You should get some sleep. In your condition, sleeping will help you feel better."

Hermione watched as the man smiled down at her and, like Martha, left the room. Now she was alone once again... Only her and her confused thoughts. The witch lied back on the bed and closed her eyes, feeling how heavy her eyelids seemed to be due to her tiredness. She really should sleep but there was so much about which she should think about... What was she going to do now? Should she contact the Ministry_? No. The Ministry will stay out of this_, she thought, remembering about how, in the future, the Ministry of Magic hadn't hesitated to judge her friend and mislabel him a liar just to defend its own image... Not to mention about how weak the institution was; she knew it, after all; she saw how easily it fell into the hands of Lord Voldemort. But she had to get in touch with the wizarding community somehow... Maybe she could take a walk to Diagon Alley as soon as she recovered, and, there, send an owl to someone at Hogwarts; Dumbledore, most likely, as he was already a teacher at the school during the forties.

A messy mental draft of what she would write in a possible letter to Dumbledore started to build up in her head but it was not very filled before her conscious silently slipped away from her once again.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, it wasn't the ceiling that she saw, but the white wall and the cupboard with its bottles and instruments that stood against it. The pain in her body had faded nicely and now was more subtle ache than the excruciating pain she was feeling before. Also, the dizziness in her head had vanished, and she could now pay attention to her thoughts. Stretching her arms above her head, Hermione yawned and turned around on the bed, taking a better look at the room, and saw things she didn't manage to the first time she woke up there. Now the girl could see that there was another bed on her left side and two more on the other side of the room but they were all empty and tidy. She also noticed that the door through which both Martha and Alexei had came through before actually led to what seemed to be another part of that small infirmary as, now that it was open, she could see that the room on the other side of it also had the same white walls and a old table that looked like a hospital gurney.

"Then, if I, let's say, apply any pressure on one of these, I'll feel pain, right?" A male voice came from the other room. It sounded smooth and interested, and, surely, didn't belong to the man she met before... It was the voice of a younger male and the different accent present in Alexei's voice was not in this one; this voice had a Londoner accent.

"Yes. Just think about when you hit your elbow... When you do it, you press the ulnar nerve. That's why you get that shock sensation." Now, this was Alexei's voice.

"Hm, and... In a hypothetical situation where, let's say, all the nerves of the body are under some kind of pressure, what would happen?"

"That's impossible. I mean, there's no such force that could put all the nerves under the same amount of pressure..."

"I know." The younger voice cut him off, sounding slightly irritated. "As I said: it's a hypothetical situation."

"Well, then... The person would be in pain, terrible pain, I must say." The man's voice was quiet and uneasy as he answered. "The body has a whole net of nerves going through it. Almost everything is innerved, so, if you harmed all those nerves together, the person would feel a horrible pain in every part of their body." Hermione shuddered at this explanation. If she didn't know it was a Muggle talking, she would think Alexei was actually talking about the Cruciatus curse by the description of the pain in this 'hypothetical' situation.

"This... pressure, what would it do? I mean, how would it make the pain appear?"

"It'll stimulate the nerves. Nerves are long filaments of neurons, you see... And information travels across neurons like an electrical current. If I pinch the back of your hand right now, I'm stimulating your nerve and creating an electrical current that travels from the skin there to your brain... That's how you'll be able to feel it."

"I see..." She heard the rustling of paper, as if one of them were browsing through the pages of a book. "There are a lot of them."

"Indeed."

"Do you know all of them by their names?"

"Most of them, yes." A small laugh came from the older person. "One or another always slips away from me, though. Do you want to keep it?"

"Hum?"

"The book. I have another copy of it. You can keep this one if you want to."

"That would be interesting, doctor."

"So you can take it." Hermione heard one of them getting up and, soon, Alexei was standing on the door that led to her room. "Oh, you're awake." He turned around once again to speak to the younger man. "We'll have to leave our talk to another time, if you don't mind..."

"Don't worry, doctor."

Alexei smiled and walked into the room, closing the door behind him before the other could walk out and, if he wanted to, take a look at her.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Better," said Hermione, sitting on the bed.

"It's a good thing to hear." He smiled to her, pulling a chair next to her bed and sitting down. "Miss Elston, I need to ask you something..." The girl nodded, quite worried about what the man would try to discover. "What happened to you?"

"I... I don' remember." She lied, feeling bad for doing so.

"Can't you remember anything?" The doctor furrowed his brows, staring at her.

"No."

"Hermione." The man sighed. "Are you Jewish?"

"No," she answered, confused. "Why?"

"Because... Well, God knows how crazy people are getting nowadays, with Hitler stirring the hate against the Jewish people. I wouldn't be surprised to discover that London had some of those Nazi freaks..." The man shook his head. "I thought that... I thought you were. Jewish, I mean, because of... Because of what they did to your left arm. It's the kind of thing I see those madmen doing."

"What they did to my...?" the girl whispered, looking down at her left forearm and finally noticing it was wrapped in white bandages. The doctor looked at her with what seemed to be pity, before raising his hands to the bandage and, soon, removing it. Hermione gasped as she saw the result of Bellatrix's handiwork. The cuts were still bright red and the skin around them was also reddened as she would expect, be but what she didn't anticipate was the fact the cuts actually had a defined form: small letters spelling the word _Mudblood_. The witch took a deep breath while staring at the cuts before running a finger over them, hissing at the burning feeling she felt as she did so.

"Come on, don't do that." The man took her hand away from her bruised forearm and wrapped the bandage around it again. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"Yes, I'm s-sure..."

"I think... I think I'll call Mrs. Cole. I believe she wants to talk to you."

Hermione nodded and, as soon as Alexei left the room, looked down at her injured arm, feeling the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't be happy with only torturing her, obviously; she had to make her remember the torture for the rest of her life... Now, every time she looked at her own body, she would remember that awful woman. Not to mention the fact she would always carry a mark of the prejudice the wizarding world had against people like her and her parents.

The girl closed her eyes and breathed heavily, trying to make the tears dissipate from her eyes, only opening them again when she heard the sound of someone entering to neighboring room.

"Hello, Ms. Elston."

A tall, serious looking woman was standing on the door now. Her brown hair was speckled with various white strands and her face looked old, tired. She wore a grey dress that made her figure appear even more faded, matching the place.

"I'm Margareth Cole, the matron of this place," she spoke, approaching the bed. "I've been informed of your... situation... And I can't help but agree with you staying in here for the time being. Dr. Mazarovsky told me you can't remember what happened to you. Can you remember about your parents? Where can we find them?"

"N-No..."

"I see." The woman nodded. "Any other relatives?" Mrs. Cole sighed as she saw the girl shaking her head. "I see; so, the orphanage really is the only place for you. Luckily enough, one of our eldest girls left last week. This means you have a place to stay, and you're sharing your room with only one other girl." The matron gave her a tiny smile. "Oh, yes... Martha and Dr. Mazarovsky found a few belongings of yours last night too."

Hermione watched as the old woman put her hand into the pocket of her dress and drew out a silver chain. Her heart almost skipped as she recognized the time-turner in the Muggle's hand. Mrs. Cole must have noticed how desperate she was for the object, as she didn't hesitate in handing it to her.

"I have no idea of what this is," said Margareth, watching as the girl examined the object with care. "But I know how meaningful those strange things can be to children like you... Also, this." She lifted a small, purple handbag. "I think the clasp must be damaged because we tried to open it to see if there was anything useful to identify you in it and... We didn't manage to do so."

Mrs. Cole put the bag next to her on the bed and Hermione, putting the time-turner on her lap, held it in her hands.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"No need to thank me, Ms. Elston. You'll be moved to your new room as soon as possible, so... When you think you're able to leave the infirmary, tell Alexei and we'll put you in your right room."

* * *

**A/N:** Another chapter for you guys. This one, just like the previous one, was beta read by **RipperShadow6116**.

1- Muggle characters: Mrs. Cole, as you know, appear in the books... I have no idea of why I chose Margareth to be her first name. Martha is also a canon character, although she doesn't show up, but is only mentioned by Mrs. Cole. Alexei is mine, he was created for another fanfiction and as a "tribute" to a friend of mine {AnaStrakovinch}, it was she who helped me with his surname, Mazarovsky, which means "masters of the truth"... He is, as it may be quite evident, russian.

2- Hermione Elston: Elston... Well, it came from Prince Felix Yusupov, Count Sumarokov-Elston, aka, one of the guys who killed Rasputin. I was reading his book, Lost Splendor (btw, if you have the chance, you should read it... you can find it in English on internet, just search for its title on Google), and ended up giving the "Elston" name to Hermione.

3- I know the whole "Mudblood cutting into Hermione's arm" didn't happen in the book... But, I'm sorry, I simply loved this change in the movie.

**_Miss RSS_**, _**SaffronDaise**_ and _**julesros****e**_, thank you for your reviews, they're really important to me (: Hope you guys liked this one and, as always, tell me what you think of it.

**Ari.**


	3. A Gloomy Old Place

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 03: A Gloomy Old Place  
**

* * *

Hermione's new room was a pretty small one. There were two beds, hers being the one on the right, and, by both sides of the door, there were a small wardrobe where the occupants could store their belongings. The place wasn't pretty though; it had the gloomy appearance that seemed to be everywhere in the orphanage, but its yellowish walls were partially covered with brown tiles that were spotlessly clean, just like the stone floor. The girl tried to imagine how cold the place would be during winter because, even if they were in the middle of summer, the room's atmosphere was able to make her feel chilly.

If the room was not far away from what she expected, her roommate was. Anna Parker was a tall seventeen year old with long red hair which she wore in two long braids, blue eyes, a long nose and a freckled face. The girl was extremely talkative and, as soon as Hermione first stepped into her room, she didn't stop talking, telling her new roommate about how the orphanage worked, the members of the staff, the orphans who were worth knowing and, above everything, her hobbies... Anna had an immense love for cinema. She had tons of old magazines with photographs of her favorite movie stars and kept talking about them for a long time.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I keep babbling about all this stuff." She pointed at the magazines on her bed. "And I forgot to finish telling you about the orphanage. Oh, well. Dinner is served at 7 P.M and the curfew is 10 P.M... Mrs. Cole or another member from the staff will pass by the rooms, checking if everyone is asleep around 10:15, so be sure to be in bed that time, but, after that, you can get up, as long as you stay quiet. I usually do that." She shrugged. "The staff... You met Martha and Dr. Mazarovsky. Then we have Susan, Jonathan and Amelia, But you'll definitely see more of Martha, Susan and Mrs. Cole."

"I'm sorry to interrupt but..." whispered Hermione. "Martha and the doctor, are they married?"

"Oh, yes!" Anna smiled widely. "They married about three years ago, if I'm not wrong. Aren't they sweet together?"

"And he is not... Not British, right?" asked the witch. "I mean, his accent is foreign."

"No, he's not. He's Russian but he's been living here for quite some time now." Parker shrugged. "Don't pay attention to what some people say about him. There are a few idiots in here that try to scare children and use him as the scary figure... You know, the whole 'he's Russian, he's a barbarian, he's a communist and he'll eat you alive if you don't behave'." The brunette laughed, being followed by the other. "I bet Susan started it... But no, he's not a communist and he's a really nice man. Rather quiet, but nice."

Anna finally stopped talking and crossed her legs as she sat on the top of her bed, watching Hermione carefully.

"What happened to you?" The question came out of her lips with a completely different tone of voice. It wasn't the enthusiastic voice from before, but a quiet, worried one.

"I don't really remember," said the witch. "Martha and Alexei found me in an alley, they said I was hurt and they took me here..."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." The redhead bit her lip and placed her hands on her chest. The action was kinda dramatic, but Hermione believed she really meant what she said. "I arrived here when I was eleven. My mum died when I was a baby and my dad raised me on his own... But then he died of pneumonia and I didn't have anywhere to go."

"I'm sorry."

Anna smiled and shook her head.

"Don't be. I had great times with dad and I'm glad I did... I mean, yes, I'm sad I don't have him right now, but I had him once and that's what is important for me," she explained. "There are many kids here that never met their parents. I had the chance to grow up with my dad and that's a blessing." Parker stared at her for a moment. "We need to ask Mrs. Cole to take your measurements to adjust your clothes... That blouse is way too big for you; it makes you look so thin."

"Ah, don't worry about that; I don't want to bother her more than I already did," said Hermione, pulling the fabric of her blouse and trying to straighten it up.

"But you can't walk around with this thing falling off of your body!" The girl gestured to her. "We can talk to her after dinner which, by the way, must be almost ready... Let's go down!"

Before she could answer, Anna got up and held her by the wrist, pulling her from her bed and leading her to outside. As they walked across the corridors and went downstairs, the red haired girl showed her new friend where everything was... Their room was on the third floor, along with the other rooms that belonged to the older orphans. On the second floor, there were the dormitories of the younger children: one for boys and one for girls; also, the infirmary and the nursery were on that floor. On the first floor, there was the dining hall, the drawing room - which also served as a library –, and the few rooms that were used as classrooms, along with the kitchen and the staff dorms. Anna also explained that they had a backyard where the children were allowed to go in their free time and where the orphanage's bomb shelter was located too... But, according to the girl, it had been quite some time since the last time they needed to use it.

And now they were sitting on one of the three long tables that filled the dining room. Most of the occupants at their table were orphans who seemed to be above sixteen already. From what Anna explained to her, the blonde girl with blue eyes who was sitting next to her was Mabel Davies, and the younger girl with whom she was talking to, the one with brown, curled hair and slightly apart front teeth was Amelia Thomas. There was a boy sitting in front her and that was now talking about the war with a strange enthusiasm. He had dark eyes and his dark, curly hair was brushed back and fixed with a lot of hair gel. This, according to Anna, was Sebastian Turner.

"I wish I could be there," the young man, Sebastian, said. "In the war, I mean."

"Shut up." Another brunette that sat next to him shook her head as she talked. "You don't know what you're talking about..."

"Of course I do!" The boy puffed his chest and raised his head.

"This is Mary Bennett," Anna whispered to her. "I believe she has a thing for Sebastian..."

"What did you say?" The brunette, Mary, turned her head promptly to stare at the red head.

"I just told your name to Hermione here," she explained. "You see, she's new..."

"Oh, yes." Mary narrowed her eyes while watching the witch. "Hermione Elston, am I right?"

"Yes."

"I hope you... Enjoy... _this_ place." She shrugged and Hermione asked herself if the other really meant that.

"As I was saying," Sebastian started to talk once again. "I would join the army if I could. But I can't enlist yet..."

"Of course not, you're still sixteen," said Amelia, laughing. "Imagine you, a _boy_, in the army."

The girls giggled while the boy scowled at them. Hermione noticed he actually looked older; maybe seventeen or even eighteen, but, as the other girl had said, he was still a child. And she was sure he would regret his words about enjoying being in the army as soon as he stepped into a battle... She knew what war looked like, knew what it was like to be in the front lines, battling against the enemy. These kids, even though they had seen much more of wars than someone with their age in the future, still didn't get the idea of how horrible it was to fight in one.

"I wish I was turning eighteen this year," said the boy, looking around. "So I could enlist as soon as possible, unlike some others..."

"Sebastian..."

"You know I'm right, Mabel. Tommy Baker turned eighteen and is already going to enlist. _He_, on the other hand, turns eighteen this year and is not moving a finger to help England..." Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. Whoever they were talking about, she felt bad for him... It was his decision if he wanted to get into a war or not and no one had the right to look down on him for deciding not to take part in it.

"Maybe battling is not his thing," whispered the witch, attracting the other's attention.

"She's right," said Sebastian. "The only thing that interests him is that bloody posh school of his." The boy stopped talking bluntly as he looked at the dining room's door. "Isn't that right?" he asked out loud to the newcomer that had now sat down on the far end of the table. "What? Aren't we posh enough for you,_ my lord?_"

The witch sighed and turned her head to look at the target of Turner's accusations. The boy was not too tall and looked younger than Sebastian. His thinness seemed to be increased due to the grey jumper he was wearing, which, just like Hermione's blouse, was too big for him. His skin was almost sickly pale and contrasted against his dark brown, impeccably well-combed hair. His face was handsome and soft, even with the serious expression on it. Upon hearing the other boy, his only reaction was to stare at him with his cold blue eyes for a few seconds, before turning his head back to the plate in front of him.

"Who's that?" asked Hermione in a low voice. She had an odd feeling that she had already seen that face before, but didn't remember where exactly.

"That's Tom," said Anna and the witch felt the contents of her stomach roll as realization started to sink down. "Tom Riddle. I would suggest you not to get too close to him... I heard wicked things happen around him."

* * *

Anna had already been asleep for some time when Hermione got up and took her beaded bag out of her wardrobe. She had hidden it between her 'new' clothes, even though she knew no one in the orphanage would be able to open it due to the protective spell she had put on it. Sitting back on her bed and positioning herself in a spot where the moonlight that streamed through the window touched, the witch opened the bag and looked into the dark hole that was inside of it. Sighing, she put her whole arm in it, feeling its contents with the tip of her fingers... It was impractical but it was the only way for her to find what she wanted; after all, she had lost her wand back at the Malfoy Manor and, therefore, couldn't cast a summoning charm to get a piece of parchment and a quill.

As soon as she found it all, the girl put the bag down and supported the parchment on her legs and, then, opened the bottle of ink and dipped the tip of her quill in it. Now that she was there, ready to write a letter to the only person whom she could trust, Hermione wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do... Dumbledore would be able to help her or, if he didn't, it would be good to be back at Hogwarts, where she knew she would be safe... But now the witch knew that the castle might not be as safe as she had imagined it would be, and just because of one single person.

When the name Tom Riddle left Anna's lips back in the dining room, Hermione felt like getting up and running away from that place as soon as possible. Panic rose inside herself as she remembered everything she knew about the Dark Lord and everything he had done to the wizarding world... It was his fault that Harry's parents were dead, just like Sirius and Mad-Eye; it was his fault that the Weasleys were now being persecuted; it was his fault that her parents were living in Australia without even remembering they had a daughter. And there he was, a few meters from her, eating his dinner like any normal person would.

The girl didn't want to live under the same roof as Voldemort, but she could bear it there, in a place where he couldn't use his magic if he didn't want to get arrested for exposing the wizarding community to Muggles... But, once he put his feet in Hogwarts, Tom Riddle would be in his own kingdom, a place where he could do whatever pleased him. And it was the thought of a Riddle free to do anything that scared her... But still, it was Hogwarts, it was safe and it was the closest thing to a home she could get in 1944.

Sighing and shaking her head, the girl placed the tip of her quill on the parchment and started to write. She felt bad for lying to someone like Dumbledore, but, for the time being, Hermione preferred to cover up the whole time-travel story for a while, at least until she got the chance to speak with Dumbledore face to face. After all, it would be disastrous if her letter ended up in wrong hands if it contained that information. So, for now, the only thing the witch would say was a made-up story about how she was a refugee from the war against Grindelwald who was seeking for help and thought that finishing her education at the most well known magical school of Europe would provide her with both the safety she needed and the knowledge she wished to have.

Once having the letter finished, Hermione folded it and put it back into her beaded bag, along with the quill and the ink bottle, before tucking the small bag under her pillow and lying down once again. Now she had to wait for next morning, when she would try to escape from Anna's company for a couple of hours to sneak out of the orphanage and go to Diagon Alley in order to send her letter to professor Dumbledore. _You should get some sleep;_ she could hear Alexei's voice echoing in her ears and smiled. Usually it was her telling people to go to sleep or making suggestions about what would be better for them... It was weird not being the one taking care of others now that there was no Harry nor Ron needing her care. _'No, they need it'_, she thought, feeling her heart clench inside her chest. _'They need me and I'm not there for them.'_

The girl felt the tears coming back to her eyes and closed them in order to avoid crying. This was the first time she actually thought about how alone she was there, in the orphanage, in 1944, now that Anna was quiet, that there were no other orphans making noises and that neither Martha nor Alexei was near. Now she was all by herself, with no Ron Weasley to make stupid remarks or silly jokes and no Harry Potter to be worried about his friends or talk about Quidditch. There was also no Ginny, Luna, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Fred or George... Hell, even Parvati and Lavender seemed to be good company now that she stopped to think about it. Now there was only Anna, Amelia, Mabel, Mary, Sebastian, Martha, Alexei, Mrs. Cole and, even worse, Tom Riddle.

* * *

Hermione dreamed about Fluffy, Hagrid's three headed dog. No, actually; she dreamed about the tests the teachers had made up to prevent someone from getting near the Philosopher's Stone; the obstacles she and her friends had gone through when they were only eleven. The Devil's Snare; the flying keys; the giant wizarding chess board; the troll – that they, luckily, didn't have to beat – and, at last, the potions... The girl could remember as if it were yesterday how worried she felt as she watched Harry walking through the purple flames after drinking the right potion, leaving her behind and, for the first time, getting face to face with Lord Voldemort.

_'Me! Books and cleverness! There are more important things than that – friendship and bravery and...'_

The witch laughed, remembering her own words to Harry. Now she knew exactly what she wanted to tell her friend... After all, she still had the books and the cleverness, but the friendship was gone and, the bravery, she worried, was slowly going down to the same path.

After spending a few minutes in bed, enjoying the colorful remnants of her dream, the girl got up quietly so she wouldn't wake up her roommate, and slipped into the grey orphanage clothes before leaving the room. The orphanage – that, after all, she discovered that was called Wool's Orphanage – was oddly quiet and rather pretty that morning. As she walked down the stairs, Hermione couldn't help but notice how nice the place looked when the sunlight was entering through the windows and illuminating everything. She smiled upon looking up to one of the big windows behind the stairs and seeing tiny dust grains floating and becoming visible against the sunlight.

As she reached the entrance hall, the girl looked around, noticing that there was no other orphan up yet and that the only noise she could hear was the one coming from the kitchen. She wasn't hungry and didn't want to wait until after breakfast to leave for the Diagon Alley, so, after a few minutes of standing there, Hermione decided to leave. It was just a quick trip for her to get her letter sent; nothing that would take too much of her time. If she got out now, she would even be back before breakfast was served.

As it was still early, there were not many people on the streets yet, and that made Hermione feel almost as if she was walking inside a crazy dream or something like that. The girl had never thought she would see London like this. Everything had a vintage touch: the cars that were driving along the streets or that were parked, the buildings, the ads, the people... It almost delighted her to see all those men and women walking around wearing those vintage clothes.

It took longer than the witch expected to get to Diagon Alley, as she needed to ask for directions twice after noticing she didn't know how to get there from the orphanage, but, once she arrived, a warm feeling swept over her as the dark door of the Leaky Cauldron came into her view. Hermione stood in front of it for a few seconds before pushing the door open and entering the pub. As much as she remembered, the place didn't change at all. It was the same old, messy dining room with portraits and posters on the walls; there was the same dark stairs that led to the rooms and that also made odd noises each time someone stepped on them, the same magical atmosphere that clashed so much with Muggle London, which stood right outside the door.

"'ello there, missy!" Hermione turned around to see a red faced man standing behind the bar, cleaning a glass with a cloth. His dark hair had several white spots in it and stood in all directions as if he had just received an electrical shock, but his smile was gentle. "May I help you?"

"Hi." The girl approached him. "I'm new in London and I needed to get some things in Diagon Alley..."

"Oh, yes! That door over there." He pointed to a wooden door at the back of the dining room. "Cross it and you'll be in the courtyard... You 'ave to tap your wand the bricks in the wall. Three up and two across from the trash can."

"Ah…I don't have a wand."

"I beg your pardon, missy?" He leaned in as if to hear her better.

"I lost my wand a few days ago, in a duel," she explained. Well, it wasn't a lie. "That's one of the things I need to get in there: a wand."

"Eh, I see." The man set the glass down and put the cloth on the top of it. "Come on, then, I'll give you a 'and."

She followed him to the courtyard and watched as the man drew his wand out of his pocket and tappet the right brick with it. Soon, the brick wall started opening until it formed an arch that let the Diagon Alley get into her view.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, young lady." The wizard winked to her and smiled. "I'll be at the bar, if you need any help later..."

"Thank, Mr.…?"

"Gauge, but you can call me Wilfred."

Hermione nodded and smiled as she watched the man walk away from her. Looking back to the entrance, the girl felt her smile grow even larger and took a step in. She could feel the magic that surrounded the place, coming from the shop owners, the visitors, the magical objects and creatures, and even from the wards that protected and hid the place. Even though she already knew Diagon Alley, the girl couldn't help but linger in a shop window or another, staring at their products in awe.

"Stop it, Hermione," she whispered to herself after turning around from the window of Scribbulus Writing Implements, where a dark, elegant quill was writing by itself on a piece of parchment. "You have important things to do now."

The girl headed to the owlery. It was one of the few shops she had never visited in the alley, but she wasn't surprised to see it looked a lot like Hogwarts' owlery: dark, smelly and filled with hooting sounds from the birds. The witch behind the counter was busy reading a magazine about magical creatures but quickly raised her eyes as soon as Hermione walked in.

"How can I help you?" Her voice sounded bored and she looked back to her magazine.

"I wanted to send this letter." The girl put her hand into her beaded bag and took the letter out of it. The woman pouted and put the magazine down, before getting up and walking to the owls' cages.

"To where?"

"Hogwarts."

"Hum... Artemis here will take it for you," she said, opening a cage that contained a grey owl. "Want to receive to reply in your house?"

"No, I think its better not to." Hermione handed her the letter and she gave it to the owl.

"Then come back in a few days. If it's going to Hogwarts, I would say you can come back in two days... Teachers usually take one or two days to answer." The witch petted the owl's head before letting it go. The bird flew from an open window in the front of the shop and soon was out of view. "That's one Galleon."

Hermione paid her and left the shop. She looked around, catching a glimpse of Ollivander's shop and headed to it without hesitating. She was desperate for a wand as it was horrible to feel useless and exposed when she didn't have one with her. The shop, just like the Leaky Cauldron, seemed to be a place that had stopped in time. The shelves were still messy, and the wand's boxes had their usual cover of dust on them.

"Hello?" Hermione called, looking around and not seeing anyone.

"Your magic is quite strong, young lady." The girl didn't recognize the voice that had just answered her and, certainly, didn't recognize the young man who came out of gaps between the shelves. It took a few seconds for her to notice how she knew those shiny blue eyes and that messy, blonde hair... And the smile, of course, that interested smile.

"Mr.… Mr. Ollivander?" The witch gaped, noticing she was staring at him with her mouth wide open from surprise.

"Let's see," he whispered, not answering her question and looking through the boxes on the shelves, his long fingers hovering in front of each of them, as if he was trying to feel what they wanted. "Try this one." The man pulled out a purple box and opened it, taking out a dark wand and handing it to her. "Sessile Oak with unicorn hair core... Thirteen inches. Non-pliant and very strong."

Hermione held it but nothing happened. Ollivander narrowed his eyes and went back to the shelves, coming back with another box, a red one now.

"Willow, sixteen inches, core of phoenix feather. Strong and light."

Again, nothing. The wizard, once again, went back to his boxes and, after other two failed attempts on wands, Ollivander came back with another dark red box. He opened it and held the wand carefully between his fingers before giving it to the girl.

"Yew, seventeen inches. The core is dragon heartstring... Supple and good with charms."

As her fingers closed around the light colored wand, Hermione felt a wave of warmth run up through her arm and spread across her whole body. The sensation was great, as if the wand actually completed her, matching perfectly with her magic and making it a whole. A small smile appeared on her lips and this sign didn't pass unnoticed by the young Ollivander.

"Seven galleons." The man smiled as she gave him the golden coins. "Be careful with that wand, miss. It may not look so great, but, in the right hand, it'll become powerful... And I can sense your power."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."

* * *

Apparently her little trip to the Diagon Alley took longer than she expected as, when she got back to the orphanage, Hermione found a very worried Anna waiting for her at the breakfast table.

"Where were you! ?" the girl asked as her roommate sat down next to her.

"I went for a walk," said Hermione. "I needed to look at something colorful."

"London is not really colorful," whispered Anna, pushing her plate away as she had already finished eating. "Everything is grey and dull."

"Come on, you, above every person in this orphanage, should be the one who would see London as a great place!" The witch laughed, looking at the other.

"I lived in the countryside until I was seven," she said, quietly, and shrugged. "_That_ was colorful."

Hermione felt bad for the girl sitting next to her and tried to think about another subject to bring into their conversation.

"Anna, that boy from yesterday," the witch started talking, looking around to see if her subject was anywhere near. "Why does everyone talk about him like that? I mean... The way Sebastian talked about him, it was weird."

"Oh, Tom Riddle." The red head sighed and bit her lip. "He's quite odd. Doesn't have friends and is always on his own... A few years ago he got into a private school, you see. I don't remember its name, but it seems to be a really good one. He leaves every September and only comes back in July. Sebastian doesn't like it; he thinks it's unfair that Riddle gets to go to a private school and the rest of us don't, but I already told him: the boy deserves it. He's intelligent and refusing the offer would be the same as signing a certificate saying he wanted to be stuck in here for the rest of his life. He had his chance and grasped it... I always say to Sebastian: that Riddle kid will be grand one day, I don't care what you say about him; I bet that, in a few years, we'll hear about him. I, particularly, think he's becoming a doctor, like Alexei."

Hermione stiffened a laugh that almost came out from her mouth as the mere idea of Tom Riddle as a doctor entered her mind. If only Anna knew that, in the future, that boy would be killing men, women and children without thinking twice...

"Anyway, I don't judge him for liking to be alone, but I also don't get too close to him... As I said: wicked things happen near him."

"Wicked things?"

"Yes," she answered. "My former roommate, Amy Benson, was terrified of him." Hermione narrowed her eyes as she recognized that name. Harry had talked about this girl... Riddle had once taken her and another boy to the cave which, many years later, he turned into a hideout for his Horcrux, and, somehow, scared the hell out of them. "She never talked about what happened, but always said about how I should never get near him because he would hurt me. The kids still talk about the incident in Dover, after which Amy and Dennis Bishop became all weird... Dennis was adopted when he was fourteen and Amy left last week. She had just turned eighteen, but she said she wanted to get away from Riddle as soon as possible."

"I see..."

"The thing is: stay out of his way and he'll be harmless." Anna shrugged. "You'll never see Riddle talking or anything like that... The only people he used to talk to were Martha and Dr. Mazarovsky, but he stopped talking to her about two years ago, after he got really sick during a summer vacation. Dr. Mazarowsky still talks to him sometimes."

"And... Since when has he been here?"

"He was born here," said the red haired girl. "His mum died giving him birth, they say. And his dad never showed up. It must be quite sad, no? Living your whole life here, without meeting your parents... That's what I meant yesterday: I knew my dad and I'm thankful for that. Riddle didn't have this chance and I kinda of feel sorry for him."

* * *

The orphanage's drawing room, as Anna had explained, was also some kind of small library where kids stayed when they wanted to read or do their homework during the school year, but now, during vacation, it was pretty empty. Hermione decided that it would be nice to take a look at the books the staff kept in there, as she couldn't bear reading her roommate's magazines anymore – at first, she was interested in seeing how those old magazines were, but ended up reading them way too quickly and now the gossips about old celebrities and step-by-steps of "how to curl your hair" were beginning to bore her.

There was just one person in the room as she walked in and, surprisingly, it was the only person in the whole orphanage who she didn't want to cross paths with. The girl slowed her pace as she neared him. Riddle was standing in front of the big bookshelf that took up part of the wall, staring at the books in it while biting down on his already short nails. His eyes left the books for a quick moment as he looked down to Hermione, but said nothing. The witch felt extremely uncomfortable in his presence and the silence between them was not helping, not even one bit.

"Are you going to pick something or are you just going to stand there staring at it for too long?" The girl was surprised to recognize his voice. It was the same one she had heard at the infirmary, talking with Alexei a few days before. Just like back then, it was smooth, but, this time, it was also cold and irritated.

"You're doing just the same thing." She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Who did he think he was? The _owner_ of the place?

Riddle lunged foward and grabbed a book with a dark brown cover and the title written in golden letters. Before the girl could read its title, the boy shoved the book into her hands.

"What's that?"

"That's me saving your time," he said, looking back to the bookshelf. "Now go."

Hermione scowled at him but didn't say anything. She simply held the book firmly in her hands, almost digging her nails into its leathery cover, and turned around, walking away from him. As soon as she reached her bedroom, the girl threw the book inside her wardrobe, telling herself she wouldn't read something that git simply shoved in her face, and sat down on her bed. Anna wasn't around and Hermione wondered where she would have been... _'Maybe she went for a walk.'_

Looking at the door for a while, the witch got up once again and opened the wardrobe, taking her bag from there. She put her hand into it and took out her new wand. The warm, tingling sensation the object gave to her fingers was still there, as if it was begging to be used. Hermione brought the wand closer to her face and stared at the details engraved in the wood... Unlike her former wand, this one had an obvious handle and, in it, there were tiny little leaves and stems that curled themselves around it. This actually reminded her of the design of her former wand. The girl was in the middle of her examination when the door suddenly opened.

"Hermione, Mrs. Cole wants to talk to you..." Anna came in, talking loudly, and stopped abruptly when she saw her roommate. Hermione managed to tuck the wand under her shirt before the other could actually pay attention to it. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she said, cursing herself for letting her voice come out trembling. "What were you saying?"

"Mrs. Cole wants to talk to you in her office," said the red haired girl. "Are you alright? You look pale."

"Yes, I am. Thanks for asking." She smiled softly. "I'll be going soon..."

"All right. Damn, I forgot my notebook outside with Mabel and Amelia," the girl hissed. "Well, see you later, Hermione."

The witch nodded and watched as Anna left. When she found herself alone once again, Hermione put her wand inside her beaded bag once again and got up, straightening her skirt and leaving the room.

* * *

**A/N:** So, another chapter. More Muggle world because I simply love it. Also, a bit from the wizarding world... So, we got to know a few more people in this chapter: Anna and the other kids from the orphanage, Mr. Ollivander and, of course, Tom Riddle, the odd kid that makes wicked things happen around himself. I don't know what to say about this chapter... I had fun writing it, especially while writing Ollivander's scene. Ahm, also, I'm sorry I took some time to update... I had the chapter ready, but I wanted to wait for my beta to send me more corrected chapters. I don't know when she'll be sending them, so I don't know when I'll update it again... Maybe, only maybe, I'll post without correction, but i don't know, I'm way too paranoid to do it and, if I do, I'll spend a awful lot of time reading it again and again and again trying to find mistakes. Beta read by **RipperSahdow6116**.

Thanks to the lovely people who left a review on the previous chapter: SaffronDaise, hateme101, Zombie Reine, julesrose, Weird-Chik2 and Miss RSS (by the way, Vicky, darling, this chapter is for our seven kids! As you can see, there are two of the people that two of them were named after: Tom and Alexei...). As always, reviews are wonderful and they really help me to know if you're enjoying it, what you think that could change, what could happen, anything (:

**Ari**.


	4. The Diagon Alley

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 04: The Diagon Alley  
**

* * *

Mrs. Cole's office was very tidy, and, like the rest of the orphanage, spotlessly clean. However, Hermione couldn't help but notice a couple of empty gin bottles lying on a cabinet as she walked in.

"Ah, here she is," the matron said as she approached her desk, casting a curious look in the direction of the man who was sitting in front of the older woman. The witch felt her heart skip when she noticed that the person was wearing an odd combination of colorful Muggle clothes, and had shoulder-length, auburn hair. "Ms. Elston, this is Professor Dumbledore, he's here to-"

Mrs. Cole's voice faded away from Hermione's ears as the man turned around to look at her. The girl couldn't hide the small smile that appeared on her face when she looked at Dumbledore's face... His skin was not as wrinkled as it was in her time, and his beard was not that long and the same strong color as his hair, but the wise smile and the twinkling eyes behind the half-moon glasses were still there; just the way she remembered them. Hermione found it funny how the mere presence of the teacher made her feel safer, as if he was a synonym of safety for her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Elston." He got up and offered her his hand, which she took without hesitating, grasping it like she was making a silent call for help. "My dear Mrs. Cole, could I talk with this young lady in private?"

"Of course, Professor," the older woman said, leaving her chair and, soon, walking out of the office.

"I'm glad to see you're in good condition," said Dumbledore, turning to look at her. His face was still nice and gentle, but there was a hint of worry in his features. "Merlin knows how things outside the United Kingdom are difficult nowadays… I'm very happy to hear you escaped alive..." The girl smiled sadly and shrugged. "Although I feel sorry for your loss, Ms. Elston."

"At least I'm safe now," she said.

"Yes, you are." He let go of her hand and put his hand inside the pocket of his jacket, producing a yellowish envelope out of it and handing it to her. "And you'll be even safer after September first..."

Hermione's smile widened and she took the letter into her hands, reading the words printed on the front. _Ms H. Elston. Third room on the right side of the third floor corridor. Wool's Orphanage. 13, Vauxhall Road. London_. It was different from all the previous Hogwarts letters she had received. Those letters were written for Hermione Granger, the girl whose parents were dentists and spent her vacations with her friends... This was for Hermione Elston, the orphan girl whose Muggle parents had been killed in an anti-Muggle attack in France, where they lived with a wizarding family whom they knew for a really long time. Those letters were written to a character from a silly story the girl had created to cover up her own reality.

She skimmed her fingers over the red crest made of wax before tugging on it to open the envelope. The contents of the letter were the same as always... The only differences, from what she could see, were a couple of new classes she could take if she wished to.

"Thank you, professor," she said, smiling up to him. "I mean, for accepting me into your school..."

"Oh, Ms. Elston." Dumbledore laughed quietly and put a thin hand on her shoulder, friendly. "The school is a place for magical people like you... And, also, help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." Hermione felt her eyes welling up with tears as she recognized those words. Those were the exact kind of thing she expected to hear from Dumbledore during the feasts of the beginning of the school year. "There's no need to be sad," said the man when he noticed how she was restraining herself from crying. "As I said: you'll be safe there and we'll do everything to help you overcome all the awful things that happened to you n the past."

"Thank you, sir." The girl laughed, drying her eyes with the tip of her fingers. "But... This will sound really..." Hermione let her voice falter.

"What, Ms. Elston?" The teacher arched a eyebrow as he stared at her.

She had intended to tell Dumbledore about her time-travel as soon as she got to Hogwarts, as soon as she met him. But now Albus Dumbledore was there, inside the orphanage, talking to her... And she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. There was something holding her back; a bad feeling, a warning, an alien thing holding back the real story and preventing her from telling it to the only person who could actually help her and making another lie come out of her lips.

"It'll sound really silly." The girl shook her head. "It's just that I've heard so much about Hogwarts from those who taught me about magic..."

"The wizarding family your parents were friends with?"

"Yes. As I said in my letter, there was this family and, since I started showing signs of magic, they volunteered to teach me it with their kids." The witch cursed herself mentally at the same time as she imagined the Weasleys staring at her. 'I'm sorry,' she thought. 'I'm sorry for including you in this awful lie.'

The wizard squeezed her shoulder before starting to talk again. Dumbledore explained to her how the school worked, the grading system, the classes, and the houses. He told her about the characteristics of each house, but never mentioned how she would be sorted into one of them. The girl asked him about the sorting, just like any outsider would do, but the only answer she received was a mischievous smile, and a quick "It's a surprise, Ms Granger" from him. The last subject he talked about was where she could buy all the thingss she needed.

"Diagon Alley is here at London, and the best place for a witch or wizard to go," he explained. "You'll find everything you need there. You'll have to enter a pub called the Leaky Cauldron, in order to get to the alley... Just ask old Wilfred about how to get there and he'll help you without thinking twice."

Hermione smiled and nodded as the teacher led her to the office's door, opening it and stepping out. As the girl didn't see anyone from the staff around, she offered to accompany the teacher to the front door. During their walk, Dumbledore kept talking to her, even if he careful to not use any word that could be wrongly interpreted by any of the Muggle kids that passed by them. They were already in the front hall when the wizard suddenly stopped talking and turned around.

"Ah, Mr. Riddle! I almost didn't see you there."

The witch looked around and saw Tom Riddle standing by the drawing room's door, with a book in his hands and staring at them. His eyes were filled with a strange emotion which she couldn't really decipher... It could easily be hatred or just a little annoyance. But it only took a moment until his stare fell on her and, this time, it was a rather curious one.

"I believe you must have already met Ms. Elston here," said Dumbledore, tapping her back lightly.

"Yes, I have." The boy's voice was low and cautious, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

"Well, I'm delighted to say that she, like you, will now be attending to Hogwarts." The older wizard smiled, receiving nothing but a blank look from the other in return. "By the way, Mr. Riddle, now that I've seen you it's occurred to me that you could show her where to get her things... Would you mind doing so?"

The teenager didn't answer right away. He took a moment to look at the girl, analyzing her with those blue eyes of his. Hermione almost felt exposed during the visual examination, for it felt as if Riddle could know everything about her by only taking a quick look at her... though that was obviously impossible. The young wizard was no Sherlock Holmes, was not using Legilimency on her and, even if he tried to, it wouldn't work. She had been learning how to shield her mind ever since Harry started to have that whole problem of letting Voldemort get into his mind and, by now, the girl believed her Occlumency techniques were good enough not to let Riddle get into her thoughts or, if he managed to do so, she would at least feel it.

"Of course not, sir," he said, looking into her face once again and raising his chin slightly as if to impose some kind of superiority. Hermione had to suppress a laugh. It was as though he was trying to look superior in a place where everyone was each other's equal... For example, there was absolutely no difference between the two of them. They both had the status of orphaned kids; teenagers without families or important backgrounds and, she noticed, they even looked alike now that they were wearing that ugly uniform from the orphanage that looked way too big for the both of them. "It'll be a delight."

"Good." Dumbledore smiled and looked back at Hermione. "Now you know you have a fellow schoolmate here... I'm sure Mr. Riddle will be happy to assuage all of your doubts about the school. I must go now."

"All right, professor." She nodded, watching as the wizard walked to the door. "Good bye!"

"Good bye, Ms Elston, Mr. Riddle." He waved to them. "Ah, Mr. Riddle, could you please send that kind young woman - Martha is her name, I believe - my regards? I didn't get the chance to see her today."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore."

As soon as the door closed behind the wizard, the girl turned around only to find Tom Riddle now standing awfully close to her. Once again, his eyes were locked onto her and she could feel them burning into her skin.

"You're a witch." The whisper wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway. "And what is a witch doing in this... place?"

"The same thing a wizard is doing, I guess." Hermione shrugged and stepped away from him before turning around and walking away.. "I have nowhere to go, just like you."

"About earlier today..."

"Oh, no need to explain that." She looked at him, a small and obviously fake smile playing on her lips. "You were kind with me because you thought I was a Muggle. I believe I should say you won't need to change your behavior too much, Mr. Riddle; after all, I'm a Muggleborn."

The witch didn't have the chance to see the expressionless face of the boy turn into a disgusted scowl, even if for a few seconds, as she walked away quickly, returning to her bedroom.

* * *

"You'll be going to the same school as Tom?" Anna's face was a mixture of surprise and disappointment after Hermione told her about Dumbledore's visit. The witch felt bad for her as she watched how the other's usually cheerful face was now without its usual glee. "I have such a great luck with roommates..."

"That doesn't mean I'll forget you!" said Hermione, sitting next to the other girl on her bed and holding her hand. "I'll write, I swear. And I'll be coming back here once the school year ends..." She didn't know if this was true – actually, she didn't even know if she wanted it to happen – as, if everything went right, the girl wanted to be able to go back to her own time before the end of the term. "And you'll have an entire room for yourself!"

"Oh." Anna laughed, shaking her head. "What's the fun in having a whole room to yourself? The only one who likes it is Riddle." Soon, the laugh died on her lips as she looked at Hermione again. "You'll be leaving in less than a month!"

"Yes..."

Anna opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it and remained in silence, looking at other bed inside the room while playing with the end of her braid with her fingers. The brunette watched as her friend – because, even though she knew the other for only about three days, Hermione already liked the idea of calling her a 'friend' – stared blankly at her bed, wishing she could find a way to sneak her into Hogwarts.

"Remember what I said about Tom Riddle? I think that can be applied to you too." The red head smiled shyly to her, squeezing her fingers.

"What?" asked Hermione, faking resentment. "Am I as odd as Tom Riddle?"

"No!" The witch laughed as she saw how worried the girl looked, believing she had actually misunderstood her words. "I mean that, if you were called to that school, then you must really deserve to be there, and you must be as intelligent as Riddle. You had the chance and, like him, you chose to get a hold on it." Anna shrugged and smiled. "Now you must hold on tight and make your dear friend here proud!"

* * *

When she went back to Diagon Alley, Hermione wished she had enjoyed her first visit to it in the forties better, because it wasn't possible for her to enjoy it this time, not with Tom Riddle breathing down on her neck every damn minute. Apparently the boy thought the words "you could show her where to get her things" meant "you can stick to her like glue and not let her out of your sight"... or Tom was following Dumbledore's request as best as possible to show the teacher that he was a responsible student – Hermione remembered how Harry told her the headmaster didn't trust Riddle during his school days... Maybe that was the reason he was doing this now, to try to make the older wizard trust him a little bit – or he was just sticking to her in order to discover more about her and/or to find something he could criticize.

Now they were inside Flourish & Blotts and Hermione busied herself with looking through a selection of wizarding literature in an attempt to make the boy get bored with her and leave... Apparently it worked, as Riddle, after a few minutes of standing by her side and not saying a word (he hadn't said much since they left the orphanage, and this was actually a surprise; from what she knew about Voldemort, she would expect Tom Riddle to enjoy a long and well written speech about how superior he was just like his older self would, but the wizard didn't say a word about himself, and when did talk it was about Diagon Alley or the subjects at Hogwarts), quietly walked away from her, approaching an isolated island of books in the bookshop. The witch smiled, putting down the sugary novel she was looking over, and looked at the other boy. Tom was looking down at a leather-bound big book, letting his fingers linger on top of its cover.

"Mr. Riddle?" she called, and he looked away from the book quickly.

"I think you can get your thins by yourself now, Ms. Elston," he said coldly. "I believe you don't need me to look after you."

The girl swallowed the well-formed answer she had on the tip of her tongue and simply shook her head before turning around and walking away. The nerve of that boy! He acted as if it was she was the one who didn't leave his trail ever since they had arrived at Diagon Alley... Surprisingly, as soon as she found herself out of Tom Riddle's sight, Hermione felt a lot more relaxed, as if a huge weight had been taken from her back. She was able to suppress her dislike for the wizard – or for his future self – very well, but, sometimes, being in his presence made her feel extremely bad, making her mood very delicate and her tongue sharp. But, thankfully, the amount of time she had spent in his presence was not much... Tom seemed to be able to disappear inside the orphanage during the days and, as she spent most of the time with the other older orphans, he never got near her when he actually showed up. This meant he hadn't, until now, shown any trace of prejudice towards her for the fact that she was a Muggle-born, but she knew it was only a matter of time before it happened.

Checking the list of things she needed, Hermione noticed she had gotten everything on it. Oh well, that left her with some time to stroll around Diagon Alley... The girl took her time to visit Whizz Hard Books (there was nothing interesting in it, though), and an antique shop filled with some of the oddest objects she had ever seen and was located in the same building where, years later, Fred and George Weasley would open their own joke shop. After spending a couple of hours in those places, the witch went to sit by the now vintage-ish Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, surprised by the fact it already existed in 1944.

"Ah, the girl with the yew wand." She heard a warm voice speaking and, before she could turn around to see who was talking to her, the figure of the younger Ollivander appeared next to the table where she was sitting. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander." The witch smiled at him. "Oh, sit down if you want to..."

The young man nodded and did as she told him so, supporting his elbows on the table and looking at her with those pale eyes of his. It was surprising how the wandmaker's eyes wouldn't change over the many years that would pass until her true first meeting with him when she was only eleven years old.

"Hogwarts is waiting for you, I see..." he said, stretching his neck to look at the bags the girl was carrying with her. "Any idea of which House you'll be sorted into?"

"I think no one ever knows their house before being sorted." She shrugged, smiling. '_Gryffindor, obviously.'_

"You're right. One can try to guess, but the only way to know for sure is to go through the sorting," said Ollivander. "I, myself, was in Ravenclaw. A good house, if you ask me."

_"Where those of wit and learning will always find their kind,"_ Hermione quoted the Sorting Hat's song.

"Exactly." The man propped his chin on the back of his hand and narrowed his eyes as he stared at her. "Is there something troubling you, Ms...?"

"Elston. Hermione Elston," she answered and sighed, looking down at the half eaten cup of ice cream she had over the table. "I don't know... If there's something troubling me, I mean."

"I believe that there is," the wandmaker mused, turning his gaze to the people walking up and down the street. "A young lady like you would not have a frown between their eyebrows if they weren't troubled." Automatically, Hermione brought her hand to between her eyebrows, making the other laugh. "What happened, Ms Elston? I mean, if you are allowed to tell me..."

The witch watched Ollivander for a while before breathing deeply and sighing. Her original plan was to talk to Dumbledore, but, after meeting him, something was holding her back, not letting her tell the truth to her teacher... But she needed help from someone else, someone who would know about magic and its properties to help her with the complicated magic of the time-turner. And Ollivander was there... Sure, she wasn't as close to him as she was to Dumbledore... . _'Close to Dumbledore? Come on, the only one close to him was Harry,'_ a small voice said in her head. Thinking better, Hermione noticed that she had never been that close to the headmaster. She admired him and liked having him as the headmaster of her school, but she didn't remember directly talking to him on her own, without Harry or about something that didn't concern Harry.

"What would you do if you let the only person that could help you slip away?" she whispered.

"I would look after someone else to help me." His answer came out promptly.

Shooting a quick glance towards his direction, Hermione took out her wand from her pocket and, with a soft wave and a silent spell, cast a _Muffliato_ around their table.

"I take it the others shouldn't hear our conversation..."

"You asked me if I was allowed to talk about this," the girl began, resting the wand on the table. "The answer is no, I'm not allowed to do so... But I will, because I have too."

A small smile appeared on Ollivander's thin lips. "Then go ahead."

"The thing is... I was involved in an accident," the girl explained, seeing how one of the other's eyebrows rose. "I was fighting, in a war, against this dark wizard..."

"Grindelwald?"

"No, not him, another dark wizard... You don't know him, yet."

"Yet?"

"Yes. You see, in the future, everyone will hear about this wizard, he'll be everywhere, threatening every wizard, witch and Muggle," the girl muttered, feeling a shiver run down her body as she remembered how the wizarding world was in a state of terror in the future. In the forties, even though they were fighting against Grindelwald, it wasn't the same thing... Grindelwald didn't attack England so often and Voldemort's sole territory _was_ England.

"You can't be sure of that, unless you're a seer." He looked at her with a frown on his face. "But you don't look like a seer."

"Oh, no! I'm not... I actually have no inclination for Divination," she laughed. "But I do know this. I know that what I said will happen because... I saw it."

Ollivander narrowed his eyes and, after a few seconds, opened his mouth as he realized what she had meant. Hermione pressed her lips against one another and shrugged, tilting her head to the side.

"I told you I shouldn't talk about it..."

"You really shouldn't, Ms. Elston." The man tapped the table with the tip of his fingers, looking worried now. "These are things no one should know...But, how?"

"As I said, it was an accident. A broken time-turner."

"A time-turner..." the wandmaker whispered. "I've heard about them but never saw one. Powerful little things, they are. Dangerous, too, very dangerous."

"Time as a whole is powerful and dangerous."

"So you got in the way of a broken time-turner and ended up here, in 1944," he mused, once again looking at the passersbys. "And now you want help to go back to your original decade."

"Exactly."

"And your name is not...?"

"Hermione Elston? No. It's a pseudonym." The girl gave him a saddened smile. "Please, Mr. Ollivander, I really need some help... And you are a good wizard, a powerful one, and have great knowledge about magic."

"You put me in a much higher place than where I really stand, my dear." The wizard laughed quietly. "But I'll do my best to help you find a way to go back home... Merlin knows how horrible it's to be away from those you love, and I don't want you to feel like that for too long."

"Thank you..." Hermione smiled, reaching for his hand and holding it. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, Hermione Elston," the wizard said. "Now, do you have that broken time-turner by any chance?"

"Yes, it's here." The witch looked around to make sure no one – especially Riddle – was paying attention to them, before letting go of his hand and reaching for the purple beaded bag she always carried with her, opening it and putting her hand into it. "Here."

The girl quickly put the time-turner into Ollivander's outstretched hand. He, as if he sensed her worry of being seen with the object, closed his hand, hiding it between his calloused fingers.

"You'll be going to Hogwarts on September the first, am I right?" Hermione nodded. "I shall look for information about it as soon as possible and I'll write to you."

"All right... Oh, and, Mr. Ollivander, could I ask you one more favor?"

"Of course, Ms. Elston."

"I have this friend, a Muggle, who lives in the orphanage where I'm living right now," she explained, noticing how the man's eyebrows furrowed as she told him she lived in a Muggle orphanage. "And I really wanted to write her during the school year, but I can't send her my letters via owl..."

"You want me to take your letters to her, is that right?" A mischievous smile appeared on his face, reminding her of the older Ollivander that had given her that same smile when she found her first wand. "And take her letters to send to you."

"Yes... But if it'll interfere with your work and your routine, Mr. Ollivander, there's no need to..."

"Don't worry about that," the wizard told her, stocking the time-turner into the pocket of his vest. "And I believe you can call me Garrick from now on. _'Mr. Ollivander' _makes me feel old." The girl laughed, followed by him. "Also, I think you ought to go now..."

"Oh...?"

"I think that young man over there is waiting for you." Ollivander pointed to the other side of the street, where a sulky Tom Riddle stood. His eyes were locked on them, his arms were crossed in front of his chest and a small pout was on his lips, showing his annoyance. It was almost a comical image to see the future Dark Lord behaving like a child. "Is he your boyfriend...?"

"What? No!" Hermione laughed. "Merlin, no! Definitely no, but I have to go, otherwise he'll come here and drag me back to the orphanage by the look on his face..."

"Oh, I do recognize him," mused Ollivander, staring at Tom. "Thirteen inches and a half, yew with the core of phoenix feather. The same wood as yours, Ms. Elston." Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. She didn't even remember Voldemort's wand was made out of yew and, now that Ollivander reminded her of that, the information made her feel uneasy. "Powerful wand, and mysterious... Most yew wands are like that. It has a twin that has not been sold yet. Oh, and I remember I rather had fun carving it..."

"Had fun carving it?" the witch asked as she lifted her own wand and ended the spell around their table.

"Yes, I had just been to the apothecary where Mr. Dranke had received a new lot of goat's bones that are used in some suspicious potions... I saw the bones and decided it would be interesting to carve a wand that looked like one. Not the one of a goat, but of a human... Now, mind you, I'm not an specialist in human anatomy, so it didn't come out so perfectly correct."

"That's rather morbid, isn't it?" Hermione chuckled.

"Yes, I know, but it turned out looking interesting. It's really light, too, easy to handle in a duel..."

'I bet it must be, considering the fact that Voldemort has won so many duels.'

"I really think you should go, Ms. Elston." Garrick raised an eyebrow and faked a worried look. "Knowing his wand, I would say this young man doesn't have the greatest amount of patience in the world."

* * *

The walk back to the orphanage was a lot like their walk to the alley. The most interesting part of it was when they were walking out of the Leaky Cauldron and ended up meeting Wilfred Gauge's son, Tom. With amusement, Hermione noticed the six year old child playing with a miniature dragon that puffed clouds of smoke and flew around him was actually the man who took care of the pub in her own time. Riddle wasn't one bit amused when Gauge told his son that "he had the same name as that respectful young wizard" and simply rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"So, did you buy anything interesting?" the girl asked when they were almost at the orphanage.

"Why do you ask?" Riddle looked at her with a suspicious look on his face.

"Because I saw you looking rather interested in a book back in Flourish & Blotts. I thought I could ask you what it was about, since it attracted your attention so much..."

"Look." Tom stopped walking and turned to stare at her. "It's not only because you're a... You're like me so I'll be all friendly with you, all right? So, stop pestering me..."

"You seemed to be interested in having a fellow magical person in your orphanage when Dumbledore told you about me." Hermione raised an eyebrow and stared at him. "Oh, yes, I'm a Mudblood. You don't want to be pestered by Mudbloods."

Riddle clenched his jaw and breathed deeply. The girl could see the fingers of his right hand twitch slightly, as if in a reflex to get his wand, and took a step back to stay a safe distance away from him.

"You should know better," the boy whispered, his voice sounding low and dangerous, and he approached her. Although his eyes were still the same icy blue color, the witch could swear that they would turn into the scarlet, snake-like eyes of her future any time soon. "Then to meddle with me."

Hermione only noticed she was holding her breath when the other turned around and started to walk in the orphanage's direction once again. She waited until Tom was a good distance away from her to begin walking again_. 'What are you thinking! ?'_ she asked herself, shaking her head. _'Are you mad? Do you really have to pick up a fight with Voldemort just to annoy him? That's utterly immature, Hermione!'_

Just as she expected, as soon as she walked into the orphanage, Riddle was out of sight once again. The girl went to her room only to find it empty – Anna must have be out with one of the other girls or downstairs in the drawing room-, and took this time alone to think about what she was about to do... The classes in Hogwarts would begin in a few days and, once inside the castle, she would, once again, be amongst the wizarding community. If she looked at it from one side, this would be great; after all, the school was one of the safest places in the wizarding world and she would be safe from the Muggle war and Grindelwald, even if both wars weren't as strong as before in the United Kingdom. But, on the other hand, the witch would be vulnerable in other aspects... She would be in the middle of a generation of people who, in her own time, would be her teachers and the grandparents of her classmates, not to mention that she would be in the same year as the future Lord Voldemort. But still, it would be better than staying shunned out of the magical world.

Hermione lay down on her bed and took a deep breath. If only Harry and Ron were there with her... She wondered where they were and if they were doing well. The girl knew very well that there were times where the boys were completely dependent on her, but they could survive without her help; that time back in their second year when she was petrified was proof of it. 'That time when Riddle petrified you,' she thought, sighing. The witch remembered how fascinated she was by the intelligent boy she read about in the old yearbooks after Harry found Tom Riddle's diary... He was a prefect, had great marks on the OWLs and NEWTs, later became head boy and had received a special award for services to the school. If there was someone Hermione looked up to when she was twelve years old, then Tom M. Riddle was this person... At least until she found out her role model was actually the same man who was trying to kill her friend and had almost killed her with a giant snake. And now there she was, meeting a seventeen year old Riddle, living in the same place as him and, soon, would be studying in the same year as him.

"Hermione!"

The girl jumped on the bed, startled with how abruptly her roommate opened the door and called her. Anna's eyes were wide and her face was a blend of surprise and amusement as she gestured for the other to follow her. Hermione got up and did as her friend had asked, following her down the stairs and finding a crowd of children on the door that led to the drawing room.

"What happened?" asked the witch, frowning as she heard someone screaming. She recognized Mrs. Cole's annoyed voice as the one responsible for that.

"Stop it, stop!" The woman's voice echoed in the hall. "Sebastian Turner, stop that right now, young man!"

"Seb and Riddle," said the girl, pointing to the crowd. "I was just walking past and saw them arguing before Sebastian jumped on Riddle. All that army stuff again..."

"Oh God..." Hermione whispered as she watched Martha coming through the crowd, dragging a disheveled Tom Riddle by the elbow. The boy had a hand covering the lower half of his face and, from what the witch could see, there was blood dripping from his chin and running down his hand, passing through his pale and trembling fingers.

"Ms. Elston!" Martha's voice took the girl out of her observation. Now the woman was approaching her. "Can you please take Tom to the infirmary? Dr. Mazarovsky will soon be there... I... I have to deal with..." She looked back to the group of children, finally letting go of the teenager's arm. "All of you, out of the drawing room, right now! Out!"

While the blond was busy trying to disperse the crowd of kids, Hermione took her position next to Tom and took his arm, leading him to the second floor, to the infirmary. Riddle didn't say anything – though the girl believed he only kept his mouth shut because he wasn't really able to talk at the moment – and, when they finally reached the room, he went to next the old gurney and leaned against it.

"You can go now, Elston." Tom's voice came out sounding strange and the girl had to restrain the laugh that came up to her mouth as the image of Voldemort speaking like that appeared in her mind.

"Come on, let me see it." Hermione approached him and held his wrists, using her force to pull his hands down. The girl scowled as she looked at his face. Riddle's nose was reddened and obviously broken, as it was now crooked and bleeding. Oh well, at least it wasn't his mouth as she had imagined... "Oh, I could swear he had left you with a few missing teeth." The wizard grunted something she couldn't understand and the girl raised her hand to touch his nose. As soon as her fingers touched it, Riddle let out a cry of pain and recoiled, turning his face away.

"Why did you do that! ?" he asked, panting and covering his face again.

"Just checking," she said, walking up to the door and locking it, before going back to stand in front of the other. "It's definitely broken." The girl put her hand in the pocket of her skirt and took her wand out of it. It was a great chance to see how her new wand would work.

"What are you doing?" The wizard narrowed his eyes, looking at the wand that was now pointed to his face. "Elston, don't even think about it. I won't let you cast a single spell on me!"

"Riddle, stop acting as if I'm going to hex you." The girl breathed deeply. "If I leave it like that, Alexei will have to take care of it and I'm sure he'll take more time and do it in a more painful way."

"He's a doctor and you're not," Tom began to talk but, suddenly stopped as Hermione's hand grasped his face and turned it to her. The boy's eyes widened as he saw her wand pointed to his nose and he tried to get away from her hand, but, before he managed to do so, the witch whispered a incantation and a loud 'crack' was heard as his nose was pushed back into its right place. Riddle cried out and pushed her back, before covering his nose once again. "Oh God..." he whispered, closing his eyes tightly and breathing quickly. "Oh God."

"Done. Now you won't have to worry about having a crooked nose for the rest of your life..." _'Or at least until you make it vanish in some mysterious way.'_

Tom was now busy with touching his own nose, hissing a little some as he did so. Hermione took this moment to take a better look on his face... His nose was still swollen and red, and the girl was afraid that, even though she had fixed it, he would still have ugly bruises on his nose and around his eyes. The blood was running from his nose, dirtying his lips and dripping from his chin. The witch would happily clean it with a spell because the mere sight of it made her feel uncomfortable – not that she was the kind of person who would feel sick by seeing blood, but she didn't enjoy it either – but it would be odd for Alexei or anyone else to walk in and see Riddle without a single drop of blood on his face and shirt after what happened.

"Never," he whispered, looking up to her with his eyes narrowed. His voice sounded dangerous, making the witch take a step back without realizing it. "Never do it again, Elston. Never again point your damn wand at me, no matter what the situation is."

"I just wanted to help..."

"You'll be helping by not repeating this stupid action and by not telling anyone about what happened here today," he said, still staring at her with those cold blue eyes of his. Hermione hadn't noticed until now how odd those eyes were... They seemed to have something that made them look extremely unique, and not in a good way... They were mysterious, seemed to have the power to easily intimidate someone and she felt as if they were slowly manipulating her, dragging her in with the help of an unknown force with the objective of making her drown in their contents. The girl didn't know if whose eyes she feared the most: Voldemort's scarlet and rage-filled ones or Tom Riddle's blue, cold and dangerous ones. "Oh, yes, and, at Hogwarts, no one will hear about the fact we already know each other... Much less about the fact I live in this place, do you understand?" The witch nodded. "I didn't hear you, Elston. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good," he whispered, closing his eyes and rubbing the tip of his nose. "Now it would be good if you unlocked the door, otherwise they'll be suspicious about what we're doing in here."

The witch shook her head and waved her wand at the door, hearing a clicking sound from the lock being opened. As if Riddle had foreseen the arrival of someone, the door opened and Dr. Mazarovsky walked in quickly, holding a bowl filled with ice from what she could see. The man whispered something in a foreign language as he walked up to Tom, putting the bowl down on the gurney behind him.

"You're in trouble, Tom," said Alexei, his accent seemingly increasing due to his jitters. "Mrs. Cole is not happy, not one bit happy..."

"It's not my fault!" The boy whispered as the doctor's fingers closed around his swollen nose. "It was that idiot's idea to..."

"Tom."

"It was Sebastian who decided it would be nice to start a fight." He rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Cole should punish him and not me."

"Not now, Tom, you can talk with her later. Oh, Hermione." The man looked at her quickly. "Thank you for bringing him here."

"No problem..." she whispered. "Is he alright?"

The boy narrowed his eyes when he noticed the lie coming from her lips while watching the doctor examine him.

"He's going to be alright," said Alexei, taking his hand from the other's face. "You have more luck than sense, Tom Riddle... It's incredible how your nose is not broken. I mean, it bled a lot and it's swollen and sensitive, but not broken."

The doctor didn't notice the quick look the two teenagers exchanged while he went over his cabinet to get a piece of white cloth. He wrapped a few ice cubes from the bowl in it, before putting it to the boy's nose.

"Hold it there for a few minutes. Hopefully it'll reduce the swelling." Alexei turned around and looked at the girl who was still standing a few feet away from them. "I guess you can go now, Hermione. Thank you again."

The witch nodded and turned on her heels and walked out, leaving a bloodied Tom Riddle and a worried Dr. Mazarovsky behind.

* * *

"I'm going to miss you."

Hermione turned her head, casting a quick glance at her roommate, who was sitting behind her on her bed, brushing her hair. It was the last night she was spending at the orphanage before leaving for Hogwarts in the next morning and, even though she was looking forward to going back to the school, the girl was also feeling a bit sad about leaving the orphanage... During the few weeks she stayed there, Hermione ended up making, if not friends, good acquaitances, not only with the orphans but with the staff. Martha, for example, proved to be a good company, just like her husband... And not to mention Anna, who, she feared, she would miss the most.

"I'll write, don't worry," said the witch, feeling the brush running through her hair. Anna had insisted, since the first day they had met, that Hermione had great hair – the other girl could only laugh at this statement. Her hair was everything but great – and Anna also said that she wanted, one day, to brush it, but the witch insisted on not letting her do so out of fear. The only person who had ever touched her hair was her mother and she was always afraid that, if someone else did, they would fill it with knots. But, since it was her last day there, Granger decided that it wouldn't hurt – much – to grant her roommate that simple wish.

"You better do so!" the red head laughed. "And let me know if Riddle is behaving in school..."

"Oh, Anna, I want to keep a good distance from him there!"

"I see, I think I would do the same if I were you."

Hermione heard the girl put the hairbrush down on the bed and felt her hands holding her hair as if to tie it up on a ponytail, but, instead, she simply ran her fingers through it. It was fun how such a simple act could make her remember the times when she was little and her mother used to do this to her every night... With a hint of sadness the witch remembered that Mrs. Granger, the night before her first trip to Hogwarts, had done the same thing her friend was doing now.

"You have a lovely hair," whispered Anna, smiling. "Don't let anyone put gel in it to make those crazy curls, please."

"Oh, don't worry, I don't think anyone is able to tame it," Hermione laughed. "It'll never stay still in those curls like Mary's."

"You should cut it," mused the head haired girl.

"I beg your pardon? I thought you said it was lovely."

"It is, but I bet it would amazing with a short cut... You would look like Clara Bow!"

"Who?" asked Hermione, seeing the other girl getting up from the bed and kneeling down next to her own, searching for something under it.

"Clara Bow," said Anna, pulling an old shoebox from under the bed and opening it. A few seconds later, she was next to the witch once again, showing a photograph of a young woman with short, curly hair, beautifully expressive dark eyes and a well sculpted mouth.

"You're mad. There's no contest between me and her... She's way more beautiful," said Hermione, holding the photo.

"But you would look good with your hair short like hers." The red head shrugged. "I wish I could cut my hair short like those girls from the twenties, but I think Mrs. Cole would kill me if I did so..."

"Soon you'll turn eighteen." The witch smiled to her. "And then you'll be able to do as you please with your hair."

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Promise me you will write."

Hermione stared at the other for a while before smiling and putting a hand on her arm.

"I promise. I'll write, telling you about my classes and about how Tom Riddle is behaving."

"Now that's more like it!" Anna laughed. "And remember: make your dear friend proud, please."

"Of course I will, Anna, of course I will."

* * *

**A/N:** Now it's corrected :) Beta read by Shadow6116. Now... I love this chapter! I think I have a thing for Tom with a broken nose... Or maybe it's with a really annoyed Tom, I don't know. I don't know if I can say more about this chapter... I guess, for Vicky and Cella (and any other brazilian person reading this... or someone interested in brazilian literature), did you girls recognize something in this chapter? I dunno... A random feature in a certain character that reminds a really famous person in our literature? :D

**1- "Now, mind you, I'm not an specialist in human anatomy, so it didn't come out so perfectly correct.":** being the HP fan I am... and also a lover of human anatomy, I couldn't help but try to discover which bone Voldemort's wand was shaped after... Only to discover that there's no bone shaped like that of his wand. The closest one may be a humerus (my favourite bone, mind you) but still... that pointy edge on Voldemort's is not from any bone from the human body... So, yeah, Mr. Ollivander had fun creating a shape that reminded him of a bone but that made it easier for the wizard to hold the wand (because, really, out of the wands I have, Voldemort is the easiest to hold. One's finger fits perfectly into it, it's amazing).

**2- "Oh, I could swear he had left you with a few missing teeth.":** dunno if this is a dentist's kid thing but... My parents are dentists, like Hermione's, and since I was very young I learned that "your teeth are almost the most important thing in your body" so... I pay attention to everyone's teeth and get worried about them. If I see, for example, someone getting hit by a ball on the face, my first thought is "omg their teeth!"... Random stuff is random.

Oh! Yes! I have to share this with you: the lovely Gigicerisier on deviantART made a lovely drawing for a scene from last chapter! I completely overreacted once I saw it here: art/Guys-I-m-Tomioneer-TomHermione1-302459849

Also, a little thing from me: art/Yew-seventeen-inches-304349323 , Hermione's wand.

Thanks to everyone who left a review on last chapter, really, you guys are amazing. (: Reviews on this one are, as always, welcome, I love to see what you're thinking of the story, what is ok, what could be better, what you think that may happen... Anything (x

**Ari**.


	5. Hogwarts

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 05: Hogwarts  
**

* * *

It wasn't a nice and warm summer day when Hermione saw herself leaving the orphanage in order to take the Hogwarts Express. Rain poured down on London as Mr. McMillan, another man from the orphanage's staff, drove her and Riddle to King's Cross Station. Hermione spent the whole drive in silence, just like Tom, who didn't tear his eyes from the window until they reached the station.

"Here we are," Mr. McMillan said as he pulled in front of the station. "You better go quickly, otherwise you'll be soaked." The boy nodded, opening the car's door and stepping out. Hermione followed, whispering a quick 'good-bye' to the driver. As she struggled to get her trunk out of the car, the witch saw Riddle already walking away from her. "Oi, Tom! Be a gentleman and help the young lady here!" She heard McMillan shouting and laughed quietly as she finally managed to get her stuff from the car. The thought of Tom Riddle acting like a gentleman toward her was hilarious in her mind.

"Don't worry, sir," the girl said, finally walking away quickly from the car and waving to the man. "I've got it already!"

Tom Riddle, even though he didn't bother to walk back into the rain to help her, at least stopped and waited for the girl to catch up with him – but only once he was already into the station and not being soaked by the cold rain. As always, he looked positively annoyed with the fact he had to wait and guide her – after all, the boy believed she was a new student, someone who knew nothing about Hogwarts or about how to get to it – and simply muttered a irritated 'come on' before walking again, now heading to Platforms 9 and 10.

"Funny that we have to go by train," she said quietly, remembering how her father joked about the fact that a school of magic used trains as transport. The only response she got from Riddle was a deep breath and a eye roll. "Anyway, what's our platform?"

"Nine and three quarters," explained Tom, finally stopping in front of the wall between Platforms 9 and 10. "Run into it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Run into the wall and you'll be on our platform," he said. "Look, the train leaves at eleven o'clock and we're almost late, so if you could please just run into the wall..."

"Calm down! It's just that it's not every day someone asks me to run straight into a brick wall." Hermione chuckled and did as the boy had told her, as she had done so many times before.

A good feeling spread through her body when she saw herself standing in the middle of the familiar Platform 9 ¾. If it wasn't for a few details, the girl could swear she was back in her own time, heading to meet Harry and Ron inside the train... The crowd of students and relatives saying their farewells were the same, the structure of the platform was the same and the fuming and bright red Hogwarts Express was the same one she remembered from the future. The witch smiled as a couple of what seemed to be first years walked past her, running to the train, giggling and talking, and walked alongside the locomotive, looking for an empty compartment. Before she could find one though, Hermione felt a grip on her arm and, startled, turned around to find Tom Riddle pulling her away from the Hogwarts Express.

"What?"

"I have some things to talk about with you before you enter that train," he whispered, finally stopping when they reached a corner on the other side of the platform. "Remember what I told you at the orphanage? You do not know me, alright?" the wizard asked, locking his blue eyes with her brown ones. "Alright! ?"

"Yes, yes, alright, I don't know you." The girl rolled her eyes. "What else should I know before being allowed to take a seat in the train?"

"Professor Dippet wrote to me a few days ago and asked me to tell you that Professor Dumbledore will be waiting for you at Hogsmeade station. You'll go to the castle with him and will be sorted before the first years. So, once we get to Hogsmeade, you won't go with the students in our year, but will look for Dumbledore."

"Okay... Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all."

"Then... Thank you, Mr. Riddle, for being so kind and showing me the way to the platform." She smiled sarcastically and bowed her head a little. The boy simply sighed before walking away. Had Ron had seen her, he would've been proud; after all, it's not like everyone has the chance to mock the Dark Lord himself.

Letting her thoughts about her friends go back to her subconscious, the witch approached the red locomotive once again, scanning its compartments and, after a few minutes of searching with no results, decided to try one that was already occupied.

"Excuse me?" asked Hermione, knocking on the door to a random compartment and opening it. There was a boy and a girl inside; both of them seemed to be seventeen and were now staring at her. The wizard had dark brown hair, just like his eyes, and was occupied with showing off a tiny figurine of what seemed to be a little Quidditch player that kept flying in circles above his hand. The witch also had brown hair that was tied up in a long plait, and dark blue eyes that carefully watched the newcomer behind square glasses. "Can I sit here?"

"Of course, darling." The boy smiled, waving his hand and making the figurine fly away, before pointing to the seat next to the other girl. "Here, let me help you with your trunk."

"Thank you," Hermione said as the other put her trunk away.

"Hello there... I've never seen you at Hogwarts before," the other witch said, narrowing her eyes as she watched Hermione sit down next to her.

"Come on, Minnie, there are tons of students in Hogwarts. I bet that not even the teachers remember all of them." The boy laughed, sitting back in his place.

"She's right, actually. I'm not... This is the first time I'm going to Hogwarts."

"What?" the wizard gapped at her, before turning to the other girl, who was looking at him with an 'I told you so' expression on her face. "Don't look at me like that, Minnie."

"First time at Hogwarts?" 'Minnie' asked, smiling at her. "That's quite unexpected... I've never seen someone starting their education at your age."

"I was homeschooled," explained Hermione. "But now I have to attend to Hogwarts due to some... issues in my family. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself before: I'm Hermione G..." the girl had to bite her tongue in order not to give away her real name. She had thought it would be easy to lie about her name, but the 'Granger' always came out almost automatically after her first name every time she was going to introduce herself to someone else. "Elston."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Elston," said the boy, smiling. "I'm Charlus Potter and this is Minerva McGonagall."

Hermione stared at the two friends, gobsmacked. So the teenagers talking to her were none other than her best friend's grandfather and her future Transfiguration professor... Since she had found Tom Riddle and Ollivander, the witch had considered the idea of finding more people she knew from her time, but Harry's relatives and McGonagall were two people she had completely forgotten about.

"Are you alright?" Charlus' voice took her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, I'm alright..." She shook her head, ignoring the suspicious look Minerva shot at her. "Mind if I ask you which houses you two are in? I've been reading about the houses, you see."

"We're both in Gryffindor," he answered. "Minnie is our Prefect and I'm the captain of our Quidditch team."

"I'm also in the team, but I'm only a Chaser, no nice titles like Charlus here." McGonagall laughed, kicking her friend's leg lightly. "Do you play it?"

"Quidditch? Oh, no." Hermione giggled, nervously. "I do enjoy watching it, but I'm not really fond of flying."

"I swear I cannot understand people who say they're not fond of flying," said the other Gryffindor girl, leaning towards the window as the locomotive started moving. "Flying is the closest thing to freedom one will ever get... Charlus, your mum is over there trying to call you."

"She's right, you know? About flying and freedom," said Potter, raising his hand and waving good-bye to someone; his mother, most likely. "I bet you simply didn't have someone good enough to teach you how to do it, otherwise you'd love flying..."

"It's not like that, Charlus. We all had our first classes in Hogwarts with Mr. Samaliot and, well, you remember what happened to some people." Minerva laughed, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head. "Thing is, we can't force her into learning to fly if she's not made for it. But at least she enjoys watching Quidditch."

"If you get sorted into Gryffindor, you better go take a look at us down on the pitch," said Charlus, smiling. "I promise you Minnie here will give you with a nice show..."

"Shut up." McGonagall rolled her eyes, but the playful smile never left her thin lips. "Now, Hermione, do you have any idea which house you'll be in?"

* * *

When Tom Riddle was released from the quick and boring reunion he had with the girl who would, along with him, take the post of Head Student of Hogwarts, he wished he could simply find a quiet and empty place to sit down and read during the whole trip to Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, all of the compartments were now occupied, and the least horrible place he could take was among his housemates. The boy walked across the train, stopping only for a couple of seconds when he found the compartment where Hermione Elston was in, along with that Potter boy and Minerva McGonagall, before heading back to the place where he knew the other boys from Slytherin would be in.

"Look who finally showed up!" The way too cheerful voice of Canopus Lestrange said as soon as he opened the door and stepped in. "Thought you wouldn't come to join us now that you're Head Boy."

The boy didn't say anything but sat down next to a blonde boy who was busy reading a dark red book while trying to keep what seemed to be a huge, white ball of fur on his lap still. "What is that, Abraxas?" asked Tom, eyeing the thing.

"It's a Jarvey," the Slytherin said, putting his book aside and grabbing the creature, lifting it. Now that Riddle could take a better look at it, it looked like an overgrown ferret that seemed to be sneering at him. "People call them 'talking ferrets' too..."

"It's a bit too big to be mistaken as a ferret." The boy scowled at the animal, who returned the expression.

_"Midget!"_ a low and hoarse voice escaped from the Jarvey's tiny mouth and it sneered once again. Tom furrowed his brows and felt his cheeks burn as the urge to get rid of Malfoy's new eccentric pet rose inside himself, especially when he heard Lestrange stifle a laugh when the animal kept baring his teeth at the other.

"Ignore it, Tom," said Abraxas, putting the creature on his lap again and petting its head. "His vocabulary consists of insults and nothing more."

"Why the hell did you get this thing?" asked Riddle, crossing his arms in front of his chest and sighing.

"Come on, it's interesting!" beamed the blond. "I'm hoping to make it learn nicer things to say... I mean, ever since I got here, he already called me an 'albino peacock' and Canopus an arse. It would be nice having him to say something a bit more polite."

This time it was Tom's turn to keep himself from laughing, while thanking God for the fact he would now have a room of his own in the Head's Dorm at Hogwarts; otherwise he would have to stand a whole school year with that stupid talking ferret running up and down everyone's bed and calling him names... Although he wouldn't be there, the mere thought of having his housemates' lives being perturbed by that creature was enough to make him laugh.

"You better keep that thing under control, Abraxas," said Canopus Lestrange, eyeing the strange creature."I don't want to wake up with that thing on my bed and, if I do, I'll make sure it won't have time to say anything to me."

"You won't have to do anything to him." Abraxas gave his friend a quick glance before looking down at the animal and petting its head. The Jarvey made a weird sound before curling up into a ball, cuddling against his owner. Malfoy smiled and kept his attention on his pet while the other boys seemed to forget about it.

"Have any of you seen Alphard?" Avery asked.

"I saw him talking a group of Ravenclaws when I came here," said Canopus, shrugging. "You know Black is slowly drifting away from us." The boy looked up to Tom, who remained in silence. "Last year he spent most of his time with those Ravenclaws... If I'm not wrong, there's even a Mudblood amongst them, something Peters... It must be a really Muggle-ish name for it to slip my attention like that."

Riddle moved uncomfortably on the seat. He knew who the other was talking about... It was a tall, auburn haired Ravenclaw boy whose face was covered with freckles. Tom always remembered him because of the fact they shared a name and the Slytherin had always hated it when he discovered someone else who had the same name as him. And that was the case of Tommy Peters, the Mudblood boy about whom Lestrange was talking about. A Mudblood with an incredibly Muggle-ish name.

"Alphard was never truly useful anyway," murmured Tom. "He won't be a great loss."

"Yes, but he could..." Avery stopped talking as he saw the smaller Slytherin pick up his wand from his pocket and wave it at their compartment's door.

"Black may be way too ethical to follow up with us, but he's not stupid. He knows what we're capable of and knows what we can do to him in case he decides to open up his mouth." Riddle smiled softly at them before sighing. "Also, he never knew too much about our plans... I mean, he wasn't present at all of our meeting, nor did I let him know about some important stuff."

"I remember you said you didn't trust him," Abraxas said, finally looking up from his Jarvey. "Never understood why... I mean, Al is trustworthy and is a Black."

"He's trustworthy, indeed, and that's why I don't worry much about having him telling anyone about us," said Tom. "But, as I said, he didn't follow up with our ideas... It was clear since the beginning." The boy took a deep breath and looked at the others. He loved how they stared at him in awe when he managed to prove his thoughts about someone else to others. Riddle had never told any of them about the fact he had been studying the art of Legilimency ever since his fourth year and that, by now, he considered himself to be pretty good at it... And that was the reason he, most of the time, was right about people. A quick look into their minds and he knew almost everything about them. Until now, he could count on his fingers the number of people against whom his Legilimency had failed… Two.

* * *

"There you are, darling, already looking like a Hogwarts' student!"

Hermione laughed at Charlus' remark. She was a Hogwarts student already, but still, she was feeling as if she was a first year again. The same excitement of stepping into the castle for the first time was building up inside herself once again as the train approached Hogsmeade station. The girl closed the compartment's door behind herself and sat down next to McGonagall, who was also already wearing her uniform.

"Alright, we're almost there." This time it was Minerva who spoke, pointing out of the window to a few tiny lights that could be seen near the horizon. "Look, Hermione, that's Hogsmeade."

The locomotive began to slow its pace as it approached the lights, and now they could actually see part of the small village. Hermione smiled, feeling a warm sensation grow in her as the train finally stopped at the station.

"That's it," said Charlus, smirking while getting up and helping the girls with their trunks. "Welcome to Hogsmeade, Ms. Elston. It'll be your last stop before Hogwarts."

The three of them left their compartment and, after a few minutes of being trapped in the train's corridor due to the crowd of students that were now trying to leave the Hogwarts Express, finally stepped down onto the station. It was just as Hermione had remembered it... Older students gathering with their friends in order to get to their carriages as soon as possible, while first years were clustered in the middle of the place, waiting for someone to give them instructions on what to do. As she walked past the groups of students, Hermione saw, standing near one of the benches of the platform, Albus Dumbledore. He now wore long, purple robes, along with a hat of the same color, which made him look even more eccentric due to the mixture of his beard's auburn color and the purple from his clothes. Smiling, the girl walked up to him after waving a quick good-bye to Charlus and Minerva.

"Professor..."

"Ms. Elston," said the wizard, putting his hand on her shoulder and smiling. "It's good to see you here." Dumbledore started walking, guiding her across the station. "I hope everything went well during the trip from London."

"Yes, Professor," she answered as the teacher opened a door and entered. Hermione had never spent much time at Hogsmeade Station, so she never would have guessed that there was a cozy little room (most likely used by the station's workers) in it. It looked like Gryffindor's common room, all decorated with warm colors.

"We'll get to Hogwarts via the floo network," explained the man, pointing at the lit fireplace. "The first years will be going by boat, but Professor Dippet wants to sort you before them, so we'll have to get there first." Dumbledore winked, extending his hand to grab a handful of Floo powder from a pot on the top of the fireplace, and then motioned for her to do the same. "Just say 'Professor Dippet's office.' I'll be right behind you."

Hermione nodded, walking up to the fireplace and grabbing some Floo powder. She threw it into the yellowish flames, and when they turned into an unusual shade of green, she stepped into the fireplace. After using Floo powder a few times before, the girl was already used with the ticklishness she felt from standing inside the flames, and the dust entering her airways as she spoke her desired destination, but she had never gotten used to the sensation of traveling through the Floo network. It was almost like Apparating, but the feeling of being trapped inside the walls of a chimney was almost agonizing... So it was with a great relief that the witch noticed, after a few seconds, she was standing in a new fireplace, this one in a much bigger and more organized room that she recognized as the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

"Ah, Ms Elston, I believe." Hermione turned her head, seeing an elderly man approaching her. He was wearing a wine colored robe with a few golden details in it, like the belt around his waist, and a pointed hat of the same color that left a few tuffs of white hair showing from under it. His dark eyes were narrowed, as if his sight was not the best in the world, and his mouth was pressed in a somewhat welcoming smile. "I'm Professor Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor." The girl stepped out of the fireplace, grimacing as she noticed her shoes were leaving a trail of dark spots on the stone floor.

"Don't worry about it, young lady," said Dippet, waving his hand and motioning her to approach his table, which he sat down behind. The sound of a fire being lighted invaded the room and Hermione knew that it was Dumbledore arriving through the fireplace. "You must know that entering Hogwarts at your age is not usual..."

"Yes, Professor."

"But, given the circumstances, the best thing we can do for you is to let you study here, not only because you deserve education, Ms. Elston, but because you deserve safety," the Headmaster said, looking up to her with what seemed to be a sad face. "The Muggle world is at war and it is not good for someone like us to be caught in the middle of their fight."

Hermione nodded, and looked up to see that Dumbledore was now standing by her side, holding an old, brown hat in his hands.

"Now, if you please, Ms. Elston." Dippet pointed to a chair in front of his table. The girl quickly sat down. "As you must know, here at Hogwarts, our students are divided into four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. To be placed in each of them, they go through a sorting process at their first night in the school, and that's what we're going to do now... Albus, please."

As she expected, her teacher placed the hat on her head and, quickly, it fell over her eyes, making her sight go dark.

_"Ah!"_ The deep voice of the Sorting Hat echoed in her head._ "Look at this, what an interesting mind you got here, young lady, really interesting, full of secrets. Oh, do not worry, it's not my duty to reveal them... Now, I could easily put you in both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, my dear. But you are way too brave to be put into Ravenclaw, aren't you…? You'd give your life for others without hesitating and that's why I think you should be in... _**GRYFFINDOR!_"_**

Hermione smiled and took the hat off, handing it to Dumbledore, who whispered a "congratulations" to her.

"Very well, you've gotten another one, Albus." The Headmaster laughed. "Professor Dumbledore here is the Head of Gryffindor house, you see, so I'll let him explain everything about it, seeing that we still have plenty of time until the other students arrive."

"The Gryffindor common room is located in Gryffindor Tower, and you'll find its entrance on the seventh floor, behind the painting of a lovely lady in pink dress, the Fat Lady. You'll have to tell her the password to be able to enter it. Right now the password is '_Animi Heros_'," explained the teacher, while Dippet seemed to disappear inside his own office. The only thing that made the girl notice he was still there was the fact she could hear his voice talking to someone else. "We have a point earning system to stimulate our students... If you do something correctly, you'll earn points to your house, otherwise you'll lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the highest amount of points gets the House Cup. Gryffindor's prefects are Ms. Minerva McGonagall, and Mr. Septimus Weasley. What else can I...? Oh, yes, aside from the prefects from each house, we have a Head Boy and Head Girl. Our Head Boy is Mr. Riddle, from Slytherin, whom you already know, and his partner is Ms. Aella Thorpe, from Ravenclaw..."

The wizard stopped talking as a loud crack echoed inside the office and a small creature with big ears and wide, glassy green eyes wearing nothing but what looked like a pillow case appeared right behind them. It was carrying a neatly folded dark cloak in its tiny hands. A house-elf.

"Professor, Hooky brought what the Headmaster asked for. The uniform for the new student." The elf extended the clothes so the wizard could take them.

"Thank you, Hooky," said Hermione, smiling. The creature blushed – if one considered the darkening of a house-elf skin a blushing, then she blushed – before bowing and leaving. "Thank you, Professor." The girl took the cloak from Dumbledore's hands, unfolding it. It was a typical Gryffindor's cloak: dark with a red collar, and the coat of arms with the lion on its breast. There was also a yellow and golden tie folded in the middle of it.

"You'll receive more of those in your dormitory, Ms. Elston." Dumbledore smiled and winked. "This one is just for you to go to our feast tonight, already dressed as a proper Gryffindor." The witch nodded while she put her new tie on. "Speaking of which... I think we can go down already. The older students must be here by now."

* * *

"There she is." Charlus Potter stretched his neck to look at whom Minerva was pointing to. "And, look, a _Gryffindor_!"

"You did it, my dear Hermione." Potter smiled, tapping the empty spot next to him on the bench on Gryffindor's table. "You entered our lovely house."

"Congratulations, Hermione," said McGonagall, smiling.

"Did I miss the sorting?" the girl asked, sitting down next to Charlus.

"Nope, the first years didn't even arrive yet... Oh, speaking of them..." The boy motioned to the Great Hall's doors, which were now opening, opening the path for a group of first years led by Dumbledore. All the new kids seemed to be fascinated by Hogwarts' magical atmosphere as they looked around with wide eyes and open mouths. A few of them were already looking up to the enchanted ceiling. "Oh, yes, did you see it, Hermione?" Potter looked up. "Everyone who first steps into Hogwarts gets amazed by it."

"Oh, wow!" The girl laughed, faking a surprised reaction as she looked at the ceiling, which was now showing a beautiful starry night sky. "How...?"

"It's a pretty simple illusion spell," said Minerva. "You have to see it when it's snowing outside..."

Hermione looked back to the first years, who were already at the front of the Great Hall and were now listening to Dippet's speech. After a few words from the Headmaster, Dumbledore stepped forward to begin the Sorting Ceremony. It went exactly like she would remember it... New students getting nervous over being sorted, the Hat was shouting their new houses, and their new housemates were cheering over their new little friends. After all of the children were sorted, Dippet was now up for another speech, talking about the war and about how safe they would be inside the castle... And, to Hermione's discomfort, finishing it by mentioning her.

"This year we also have a special case for a... transferred student," said the Headmaster, looking at Gryffindor's table. "Ms. Hermione Elston will be, from now on, attending our school due to a series of events that happened in her life. Ms Elston was sorted into Gryffindor house earlier this evening and will be a seventh year. I hope all of you," The wizard's face turned serious as he looked around the hall. "Make sure that our new student will enjoy our school as much as you do... Oh, I believe that was everything I needed to inform you about. Now, I hope you enjoy our feast."

As soon as he stopped speaking, trays of food appeared on the tables, and the students broke the silence, starting to speak loudly. Hermione smiled, noticing how much she had missed that cozy atmosphere of Hogwarts.

"Hey, Hermione," Minerva called her. "Let me introduce you to the rest of our year... This ginger here is Septimus Weasley." She pointed to a red haired boy sitting next to her. He had green eyes, and his freckled face and long nose reminded her very much of Ron. Oh, well... It was obvious that Septimus would remind her of her friend; after all, he was Ron's grandfather. "Those two over there are Basil Hopkins and Hector Spinnet." She motioned to a boy with curly, dark brown hair and a blonde whose front teeth seemed to be a little bit too big for his mouth. "George Johnson." A handsome dark skinned boy who was talking with a red haired girl whose wavy hair went down to her waist. "The red head is Florence Amello... Ah, and that's Selina Merrick." A pretty girl with dark hair and dark blue eyes whose hair was perfectly combed in the best 1940s style. "Cecilia Wyght." A girl with a freckled face, and copper hair held in a long braid. "And Emma Hooper." An olive skinned girl who wore her dark hair in the same 1940s style.

"It'll take some time for me to remember everyone by their names." Hermione laughed, finally noticing the difference from her Hogwarts and this one. There was no Lavender Brown with her huge pink hair ties and silver necklaces, no Parvati Patil with her beliefs in Divination, no Seamus and Dean talking about Quidditch, no Harry being... Well, Harry, and no Ron eating everything as if it was the last meal ever.

"You alright, my dear?"

"Yes, of course, Charlus," she said, shaking her head. "It was nothing."

* * *

Atlas Avery kept stretching his neck in order to see the new girl from Gryffindor. Tom Riddle was keeping himself from laughing at the thought of his housemate's reaction as soon as he managed to get a sight of her... Elston was not the most beautiful female in the world, and he knew Avery wanted a gorgeous girl to be the new student from the red and golden house.

"Come on!" Atlas huffed, finally sitting down again. "That's the new girl?"

"You shouldn't judge someone from their appearance, Atlas," Tom said, smiling.

"Shut up, Tom," the boy said. "Look at that... I bet there's a Bowtruckle nest inside that hair."

"That's just mean, Atlas." Lestrange laughed out loud. "Abraxas' mother would want to use her potions to take care of that hair, wouldn't she, Abe?"

"Sure," said Malfoy, laughing along with his friends.

"Does anyone knows if she's a Mudblood?" asked Avery, grimacing as he finally looked down at the food on his plate. "She does look a lot like a Muggle. Tom...?"

"Why would I know if she has Muggle blood or not, Avery?" Riddle spat. He didn't want his housemates to know about the fact that he already knew Hermione from somewhere else... Or better: he didn't want them to know he knew her from the orphanage. "I'm not a seer or anything of the sort."

"Not yet, right?" Canopus gave out a huffed laugh, looking at the smaller boy. "The way you cling to those Divination classes makes me believe you actually want to be one."

"I do not cling to it, Lestrange," said Tom, letting a serious expression show on his face. He believed that he didn't need to be the tough leader all the time, but sometimes he had to assume that position to remind his peers who he was. "I simply don't give up on it like some others."

Canopus took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably on his seat as he caught himself being the target of Riddle's cold glance. Tom looked down at his now empty plate and smiled. It was extremely good to be able to eat something decent after three months of eating the orphanage's scarce food.

"I'm done here," he said, getting up.

"Already?" asked Abraxas, raising an eyebrow. "By the way you eat, I could swear you starve during the whole summer break."

"I'm just not as slow as you all." The boy shrugged, turning around and leaving the hall, along with a few of the other students who had also already finished their meal.

He had already talked with Dippet about his new dormitory and his duties as Head Boy, so the only thing he had to do was to go to his room and sleep in order to be ready for the first day of his last year at Hogwarts. The Heads' dormitory was located on the third floor, and its entrance was guarded by one of the oddest paintings he had ever seen at Hogwarts. It was the portrait of a young man with dark, curly hair and blue eyes whose face was always a mask of seriousness – alright, not always; sometimes he had a pretty mean look on his handsome face. The man wore a long red tunic that looked like a dress, along with a lot of beaded necklaces around his neck. There was also a white mask showing a smiling woman with what seemed to be a huge tiara on her head, and two long, red braids that he was always holding. In Tom's opinion, the mask was the creepiest thing in the portrait.

"Yes?" the portrait asked him as Riddle stopped in front of him.

"_Magna Caput_." The man in the painting waved his hand and opened the entrance.

The Heads' quarters were huge, in Tom's point of view. There was what seemed to be a common room with a table, a few cabinets, a dark couch, a fireplace, and a few other things. Everything seemed to be decorated in the colors of Ravenclaw and Slytherin... But that wasn't the best part about the place. The boy hurried to his new room, and smiled when he entered it. It was big, comfortable, and decorated like his old dormitory in the Slytherin dungeon. There was a table for him to study at, a wardrobe – which, he thought, was way too big for him (he didn't even have enough clothes to fill it up) -, an empty bookshelf, and a huge bed. There was also a big window that gave him a great view of the Dark Lake shining under the moonlight.

Tom laughed, letting himself fall onto the bed. Being there, in a comfortable place like that room, made him notice how much he had missed Hogwarts. The castle was welcoming, magical and fascinating, while the orphanage was cold, dull and horrible. Wool's Orphanage only made him notice how he didn't belong into the Muggle world, how he would always be an outcast there, while Hogwarts reminded him that he was welcome in magical society; he was what they needed and what they wanted. Riddle sighed, rolling onto his side and burying his face into the pillow, sniffing it. It didn't smell like mold, like his pillow back in the orphanage.

"You better enjoy this while you can," he whispered to himself. After all, it was his last year at Hogwarts.

* * *

As Hermione spent six years sleeping in the same dormitory as Lavender and Parvati, she didn't mind the loud noise of girls chatting at all. Actually, the five girls from the 1940s seventh year managed to be quieter than Brown and Patil put together.

"Dad said we won't be going to Germany this year on Christmas," one of the girls, Florence Amello, said as she brushed her long, red hair. "Because of the wars."

"Oh, those wars." Selina Merrick huffed. "Messing with everyone's lives..."

"I think they're coming to an end," Hermione said quietly, not expecting to be heard by the others.

"Why?" asked Florence, finally putting her brush down and tucking herself into bed.

"I don't know. I just think it won't last." She shrugged. "Everyone involved is already way too tired to keep going for much longer."

"Alright, everyone, I'm turning the lights off!" Minerva called as she hopped into her bed, pointing her wand at the lamp.

"Aw, Minerva, we've been apart during the whole break. Give us have a moment to-" the red haired girl started to say.

"You'll have enough time to talk with each other at morning," said McGonagall, waving her wand gracefully and making the room go dark. "We're all tired from the trip, Florence, and our classes start tomorrow morning..."

"You're no fun, Minerva," someone whose voice Hermione didn't recognize said. Maybe it was Cecilia or Emma. "You're no fun."

"Good night!"

After those last words from McGonagall, the dormitory fell silent. Hermione moved to close the curtains of her bed before lying down, staring at the ceiling. The girl wasn't sure of what she felt at the moment... It was a mixture of safety, (the feeling that only Hogwarts would give her), anxiety and sadness. The fact that she was finally at the school only made the crazy experience she was going through look more real and less like a dream, although the dreamy atmosphere of it all was still there. It was as if she was just waiting for Lavender to walk by her bed, talking loudly, and waking her up. But she knew it wouldn't happen. Hermione knew she would fall asleep in that bed and, by morning, she would wake up with Minerva McGonagall screaming for everyone to wake up and get ready for their classes.

_'How did you get yourself into this, Hermione? How?'_ the girl asked herself, right before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

Minerva _was_ right; after all, she was tired from the trip, for it didn't take more than a few minutes for her to fall asleep.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm finally on my winter break, yey! This semester was though and next is seeming to be even thougher ): But, by now, I'm on my break and this means I can write, draw, read, study russian and watch a few surgeries with a doctor friend of mine :B Now, on to the chapter... Writing Hogwarts is always kinda difficult, I don't quite know why, maybe it's because I'm afraid of not making it magical enough as I remember reading it. I hope I managed to put its magic in this chapter...

**1- Jarvey:** as Abraxas said, he's like a giant, talking ferret... that only swears and call people names. About what he called Tom, I always imagine Tom not being as tall as his housemates and rather small, what would contrast with his magical power. As people say, the strongest poisons come in the smallest vials... Or is it the strongest perfume? Whatever, what I know is that the potion Harry needed to drink in Philosopher's Stone in order to get to Voldemort was inside the smallest vial. (x

**2- Mr. Samaliot:** the name for the Flight teacher came from the russian самолëт (samaliot), which means "airplane".

**3- The man in the portrait on the entrance of the Heads' dorms**: he's from... somewhere else. I mean, he's not from HP, but he's not from my imagination either. Looking by the description, can you discover who he is? (:

**4- Charlus Potter & Minerva McGonagall:** I know they're not in Tom's year. And shame on me for not being able to imagine a Tom Riddle-era Hogwarts without the two of them. A few chapters ahead I'll explain how the characters' age and everything is in the story (I'm horrible at Maths but I think I did it all right to explain everyone who would be at Hogwarts by the time).

**5- Charlus Potter and his "dears" and "darlings":** I have no idea why, but I always had this idea of Charlus calling every girl he meets "my dear" or "darling". Or at least most of them.

And I guess that's it... Those who left reviews on the former chapter, thank you so much (: I swear I always grin like an idiot every time I see you guys leave a review, it's always good to hear what you're thinking about the story. Also, thank you, **Shadow6116**, for beta reading the chapter.

**Ari**.


	6. Teach us something, please

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 06: Teach us something, please  
**

* * *

Her first class was Potions, a double period shared with Slytherin. Hermione always wondered why the teachers – or whoever organized the schedules of their classes – always ended up putting Gryffindor and Slytherin. Ever since she first had stepped into Hogwarts, the two houses lived in a constant battle against each other.

"Double Potions with Slytherin," she sighed as she walked down to the dungeons, alongside Minerva and Charlus.

"Don't worry, Potions classes are alright, you won't even notice it's a double." McGonagall smiled at her and pointed at a wooden door at the end of the corridor. "That's our class. Don't forget the way down there, because the only ones who can help you if you get lost in the dungeons are the Slytherins, Peeves, and the Bloody Baron."

"Peeves is our poltergeist," explained Charlus, laughing quietly. "He likes to send people on the wrong path. When I was a first year, I got lost trying to go to Astronomy, and was stupid enough to ask for his help."

"He ended up here in the dungeons." Minerva laughed, shaking her head. "I guess this is your first lesson here at Hogwarts: do not trust Peeves, he can fool everyone."

"And the Bloody Baron?" asked Hermione as she saw a group of Slytherin girls walk past them. One of them, a short girl with curled, messy dark hair, whose glasses were almost falling from the tip of her nose, stopped in her tracks just to look back and give a quick wave of her hand in their direction.

"The Baron is the ghost of Slytherin house," said the other Gryffindor girl, her voice sounding quite distant as she furrowed her brows, watching the Slytherin witch giggle and run back to her friends. "He's a bit of a loner, I guess. Doesn't talk much with the students or the teachers... And Nick says he's really quiet when it comes to talking with the other ghosts too."

"I wonder how he died," said Potter, and just now Hermione noticed that his face had a slight blush. "I mean... He's covered in blood, Hermione, you need to see him! From head to toe in silver blood."

"Yes, because that's really exciting, Charlus." McGonagall grimaced and shook her head. "By the way, pay attention to your face. Your crush is showing."

"It's exciting, Minnie... Wait, what? It's not!" the boy said indignantly, losing the playful smile on his face.

"Well, don't worry, hers is showing too." Minerva turned to Hermione and winked. "That Slytherin was Dorea Black. Charlus has been in love with her since... Since when?"

If that girl was the witch whom Charlus Potter was infatuated too... Then the chances of her being Harry Potter's grandmother were great. Alright, both Charlus and the Slytherin girl were still teenagers, but Hermione knew how common it was for young people to marry back in that time. Not to mention that, now that she stopped to think about it, the girl actually reminded her of Harry in a few ways. She was of medium height, like her friend, and seemed to be shy, just like Harry was. Not to mention the dark, messy hair, was very different from Potter's well combed and light brown hair. Although Charlus resembled her friend in a few ways, he was way more talkative and outgoing, from what she managed to see since she met him; different from the other Potter who was, at the very least, a little bit awkward, depending on the situation.

"Minerva..."

"What? Hermione is our friend and friends should know everything about each other." The girl laughed.

"I'm going to get our seats, Minnie, see you there." The wizard tried to look serious, but soon let a quiet chuckle escape from his lips as he turned around and walked towards their classroom.

"She's a nice girl, Dorea. From a good family, too... Although the Potters don't pay too much attention to pure-bloodness," explained McGonagall as she started walking again. "And nowadays, Merlin knows how hard it is to find a pure-blood family that doesn't believe that purist stupidity."

"Yes," whispered Hermione, her right hand going to her left forearm almost unconsciously.

"You told us in the train that you're a Muggleborn." Minerva's tone of voice suddenly dropped. "I just want you to know that... Although Hogwarts has some idiots who believe in that theory of wizarding supremacy, most of us are not like that. So, if anyone gets to you with that silliness, don't hesitate to call me or Charlus or anyone else from Gryffindor, because we won't hesitate to show them how Muggle blood can be pretty strong when working against purists."

"Don't worry," the girl chuckled, picturing the entirety of Gryffindor house surrounding a faceless Slytherin – that, quickly, became not-so-faceless but a copy of Tom Riddle – who dared to mess with a Muggleborn. Even Harry and Ron, though not from the current time, were there. "I'll make sure to remember that."

"Good. Now, let's go, otherwise Slughorn will arrive before us!"

Hermione nodded and followed the Gryffindor prefect to the classroom. The Potions classroom was still the same dust-filled place with shelves and more shelves full of bottles, vials, boxes of ingredients, and already prepared potions from her time. Minerva led her to a table where Charlus and Septimus Weasley were already talking with each other. The girl sat down next to the redhead, and looked around. She recognized most of the students from Gryffindor, but noticed the absence of three kids from her house - Selina Merrick, Cecilia Wyght and Hector Spinnet – but didn't pay much attention to that. She knew very few students actually took all of the classes during their last year at Hogwarts, focusing on the ones they thought that would be more useful for their lives after they left school... The girl remembered very well how Harry and Ron almost stopped taking Potions classes during their sixth year due to the fact they hadn't achieved an Outstanding in their OWLs.

Aside from the Gryffindors, Hermione knew no one else. On the table next to theirs sat a group of boys, all of them wearing Slytherin robes. One of them had pale-blonde hair, blue eyes and a face that seemed somewhat familiar to her. The boy next to the blond was tall, with dark, curled hair and dark eyes. The last wizard also had dark hair neatly combed back, and brown eyes that seemed to glimmer with malice as he looked around the room and whispered to his housemates.

"Who are they?" Hermione asked in a low tone. Septimus Weasley turned his head to look at the Slytherins before turning back to her.

"They're not really worth knowing, Hermione," said the redhead, shrugging. "But just so you won't know their names when something happens... The blonde is Abraxas Malfoy." Malfoy! So that was why he looked so familiar... She would recognize a Malfoy's face anywhere in time. "The curly haired one is Lestrange, Canopus Lestrange... And the last kid is Atlas Avery."

Malfoy, Lestrange and Avery. What a great group of friends. The Gryffindor kept herself from laughing, but she noticed that there was still an empty spot on their table and wondered who it belonged to... Their master was the most obvious answer that came to her mind and, a few minutes later, it was proven to be the correct one when she saw Tom Riddle walk into the classroom and sit down next to Avery. Riddle was the smallest of the boys and looked the youngest as well, but, at the same time, the witch could see how he inspired a great deal of respect – or was it fear? – in them.

"And that's Tom Riddle," explained Septimus. "Out of those four, he's the best. I mean... He's Head Boy and has good grades and is not the kind of person who'll call you names because of your heritage or anything like that."

"He's a git," said Charlus. "I bet that politeness of his is only a façade."

"Charlus doesn't like him because he thinks Ms. Black enjoys Mr. Riddle's company," joked Minerva, laughing as her friend gave her a cold look.

"And Minerva doesn't like him because he gets higher grades than her in every damn class." Potter puffed his chest and raised his head, giving the girl a triumphant look.

"Not _all_ of the classes. Not in Transfiguration."

"Minnie is a genius in Transfiguration." Weasley smiled, pointing at the prefect. "She's... Oh, well, Slughorn's here."

The witch stretched her neck in order to see the teacher. This Horace Slughorn still had a good amount of dirt-blonde hair on the top of his head and his moustache hadn't gone white yet. He also looked thinner, but that didn't made him look less Slughorn-ish as he walked along the tables with his long, brown tweed cloak dragging across the dusty floor, greeting his students.

"Well, well, well," the teacher said after reaching his desk and putting down the books and scrolls he was carrying. "Look at all of you." The man was quiet as he let his eyes travel across the room. "I remember the day all of you walked into this class for the first time thinking we would brew potions that would turn people into frogs!" The class laughed, especially Septimus. "Yes, that's for you, Mr. Weasley, I still remember that... I also remember how some of you managed to explode a few cauldrons during the previous six years." Slughorn eyes Malfoy, who shrugged. "But I also remember how most of you have grown since you walked in here for the first time, how you turned from a clueless – or maybe not so clueless – first years into skilled wizards and witches." Hermione couldn't help but notice that the professor's eyes quickly found Riddle in the middle of the class. "And now you're here, in your last year... And this old fool that has been teaching you couldn't help but make this little speech before he actually began his class.

"As I was saying: you have all grown a lot since you first stepped into this class and this is your last year, so... Give it worth. Work hard and enjoy every bit of information you can get from us teachers, because once you leave Hogwarts, it'll become very difficult for you to find someone willing to teach you like we do in here. Life outside the castle is not wonderful but full of competition and you'll need to work hard to make it through the great amount of wizards and witches that now crowd the wizarding world... And I know that you all have the potential to be the ones that'll reach the top." Slughorn cleared his throat and looked around. "Now, after this... Oh! Oh... Is that a new face that I see?"

Hermione felt her face burn as she noticed the teacher was talking about her. Slughorn raised his arm and motioned for her to stand up. She did as he asked and looked around to see that all the heads inside the classroom were turned to her.

"You must be the young lady who entered the school this year," he said, smiling. "What's your name?"

"Hermione, sir, Hermione Elston."

"Well, Ms. Elston, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Professor Horace Slughorn, Hogwarts' Potion Master," the wizard explained. "I hope you'll enjoy the class and, if you need anything, don't be shy and ask right away."

"Yes, sir." She nodded and smiled to the teacher before sitting down once again.

"Getting back to the subject... Before we start the class, I prepared a little thing for all of you." The wizard turned around and, once he faced the class again, held up a handful of parchment scrolls. The students made a loud noise of disagreement as the teacher simply laughed. A small smile appeared on Hermione's face as she saw it a chance to show Slughorn the good student she could be. Aside from her, the only other student that didn't seem to be annoyed by the surprise was Riddle, who took a deep breath, adjusting himself on the stool in which he was sitting and puffing his chest." Don't worry, it's not a real test, it'll simply be used to see how much you remember about Potions after summer break."

The older wizard started to distribute the scrolls to his pupils. Hermione quickly searched for her quill and inkbottle inside her bag, finding it just in time for Slughorn to arrive at their table.

"It's not a real test, as I said," he explained, handing a scroll to each of them. "So there's no need to try cheating on it."

Hermione quickly unfolded her scroll and read over the questions, ignoring the small chat Minerva started to have with the wizard. The girl gave a muffled laugh as she read the first questions... They were really simple things that even a first year would be able to answer without doing much thinking.

_Define the following terms: brew, concoction, draught, elixir, philtre, poison and tincture._

Now, that was an extremely silly question. A seventh year that didn't know how to define those terms had to be thrown back into a class filled with first years!

_Describe Golpalott's Third Law._

Oh, so easy! She herself had defined that to Slughorn in their class back in her own time.

_Write down three potions that may be of extreme importance for a wizard or witch working into the healing field._

Wound-cleaning potion, the Concrescentia potion and the Ponos potion.

_Grunhilda of Gorsemoor is well known for the potion she managed to create during her life as a healer. Write down the name of the said potion and the reason it's, nowadays, considered to be one of the most important potions of the wizarding world._

Alright, that was more of History of Magic than Potions, but still...

Hermione grinned as she wrote down the answer to the first question, letting her grin grow even wider as she finished another one. The Gryffindor looked up to see Minerva looking down at her parchment with her brows furrowed and a worried expression on her face. Septimus was tapping his fingers on his chin, slowly writing his answers down, while Charlus chewed on his bottom lip and tapped the tip of his quill on the wooden table. Looking around, Hermione saw that most of the other students seemed to be stuck with their answers, just like her housemates. Avery, on the table next to them, cursed softly as he looked down at his parchment; Lestrange pulled a face as he wrote, as if he didn't like his own answer; Malfoy pursed his lips and stared at the test for a long time and, last but not least, Riddle... Tom, to her surprise, also seemed to find the test difficult. The boy had his head bent down, his hand resting on his forehead, while his eyes were closed, and he seemed to be muttering something to himself. The witch's smile grew even bigger when she saw the Slytherin looking so troubled.

_Explain the mechanisms of the Amortentia potion._

Another easy one. She still remembered the day Slughorn showed the class a cauldron filled with Amortentia. The witch tried to ignore the slight clench in her chest as she remembered what that potion smelled like to her.

_Write down at least 5 side effects that can appear in a witch or wizard treated with a Mandrake Draught._

She didn't really remember any side effects of the said draught. Looking back at the day she woke up from her petrified state in her second year, Hermione couldn't remember having any side effects... Or at least she didn't pay attention to them, as she was too occupied with being happy about the fact that she was alive. The witch furrowed her brows. Side effects of Mandrake Draught? She really had never seen them written down in any book or talked about by any teacher, so how was it in the test?

_Explain the mechanisms of action in the Dreamless Sleep Potion._

_Explain the mechanisms of action in the Draught of the Living Death._

_Explain the mechanisms of action in the Euphoria Elixir._

Hermione bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. What were those mechanisms of action Slughorn wanted her to write about? She knew the effects of each potion, but wasn't sure if it that was what the teacher wanted to see as an answer. Sighing, the girl wrote down what she knew, hoping that the older wizard would consider them good answers, and told herself she would go back to those questions as soon as she finished the rest of the test.

_Write down the situations in which the Felix Felicis potion is considered a banned substance._

_Write down one situation in which the Polyjuice Potion can go awry._

_Write down a situation in which the Polyjuice Potion cannot be used._

_How can the Truth Serum be countered?_

Now, the answers to these questions were clear in her head. Slughorn had given them quite a class about the Felix Felicis and she had read a lot more about the potion after Harry received a vial of it. The Polyjuice Potion... Well, if she didn't know how to answer questions about his one, she should consider jumping off the Astronomy Tower. As for the Veritaserum, Hermione had always been fascinated by it, so it was no surprise she had good knowledge of it.

'Now, back to those questions,' she thought, looking back to the three questions she had only partially answered. But as soon as she reached them, Slughorn's voice echoed inside the classroom and the noises of moans and sighs from the students filled the room.

"Roll up your scrolls... Mr. Malfoy, stop writing right now and give me that scroll! Good." The Gryffindor grimaced as she rolled her parchment and handed it to the teacher. "Mr. Potter, the same thing I said to Mr. Malfoy applies to you: stop writing..."

Charlus huffed and handed the parchment to the teacher.

"I hate it when he does that," Minerva said, shaking her head. "I mean... The last time he did a surprise test was on our third year! We thought he had quit doing those."

"Teachers, Minnie, you'll never know what goes inside their heads," whispered Potter. "Those _mechanisms of action_, ugh!" The boy trembled as if a shiver had run through his whole body. "I hate those... Could he even ask that to everyone? I mean, what about the students who don't take those extra classes?"

"Maybe he's just trying to scare everyone? You know, trying to show his subject is a serious one..." Septimus shrugged.

"We don't need to be reminded of that! We know Potions is difficult."

"At least it's not, as he said, a real test, Charlus," said Minerva, looking back to the teacher, who was now standing in front of the class, leaving all the parchment scrolls on his desk.

"Alright, everyone, I'll correct those and bring the results next week." The wizard gave a quick look at the pile of scrolls, as if thinking about the hard work he would have in order correct all of those tests. "Now, let me ask you, did you find it difficult?" The classroom was filled with murmurs and whispers. "Okay, let me guess... You got stuck on the questions about the Mandrake Draught, the Amortentia, the Truth Serum, the Polyjuice Potion and the Felix Felicis, am I right?" Slughorn laughed and shook his head as he saw most of the students nod. "It was on purpose. You haven't studied any of these potions yet and, as you may notice now, they'll be greatly studied during your seventh year." The man turned around and walked up to the black board, waving his wand, and making the names of the potions appear on it. "This year we won't have as many projects as we did on our previous years, but a major project that'll take most of your time. I'll sort you into groups of three, and give each group a potion that they'll work with... By the end of the school year, you'll have brewed the said potion, learned about its uses, and will be the ones who'll explain it all to your colleagues. Don't worry, we'll still have our regular classes, as we still have much more to learn, but expect a lot of work in this project... But, believe me, it'll be fun." The man winked at them. "Oh, yes, Tom?"

Hermione turned her head to look at Tom Riddle, who had his arm high up in the air.

"Professor, some of these potions are restricted by the Ministry..."

"Oh, yes, well spotted, Tom! Can anyone tell me which of these potions must have the Ministry approval in order to be used?" The Gryffindor raised her arm, hearing a quiet laugh coming from Charlus, who motioned for her to look at the table next to their. Riddle's arm was also raised and the boy was now looking at her with a confused look on his face, as if not believing she was trying to answer the question. "Let's give Ms. Elston a chance, Tom."

"The Veritaserum, the Polyjuice Potion and the Felix Felicis on certain occasions, such as competitions," she said, grinning, proud of herself.

"Good, you've just earned yourself five points for your house, Ms. Elston." Slughorn smiled before looking back to his class. "There's quite a bit of discussion about the usage of Amortentia, but I won't talk about it in order to give the group who gets this potion in our project the chance to learn about it themselves." The wizard dug his hand into his vest's pocket, taking out a golden pocket-watch and opening its lid. "Well, our first period ended almost fifteen minutes ago, so I think we can move on to our actual class... It'll be an introductory thing, very quick; do you think you need a break before it? No? Good, and I swear it'll be quick."

The rest of the class was given instructions about their classes that year. The professor talked about the kinds of potions they would study, how they would study them, and how he would prepare them for their NEWTs. The man also talked about something called "extra classes" that Hermione didn't completely get, but understood that they took place after their regular classes and lasted for at least one hour. Not everyone needed to turn up at those classes, only those interested, and the subjects given to them there wouldn't be in any of their tests.

"So, what did you think of it? The class, I mean, and old Slug," asked Septimus as he got up. The class had ended, and students were walking out of the room.

"It's... Nice." Hermione gave him a forced smile; trying to not let it show that she wasn't really amused by Potions due to the fact that she already knew how Slughorn's classes worked. "And Professor Slughorn seems to be a good teacher."

"Yeah, he is..."

"The only thing is that he does favouritism," said Charlus, catching up with them, followed by Minerva. "He's Head of Slytherin, so..."

"Yes, but he doesn't prefer Slytherins that much." This time it was McGonagall who spoke. "He likes to pick his 'favorites', Hermione. He chooses them by their families and achievements in school."

"I see..."

"Those boys who sat next to us? They're his favourite group," the other witch explained. "Malfoy and Lestrange, because of their families; Avery, because his uncle worked with Slughorn on some old research; and Riddle, because of his performance here in Hogwarts."

"He created this little club of his, the Slug Club." Potter laughed. "They meet once in a while to have a tea party or something like that... Minnie here was invited, but turned down the offer."

"Why?" asked Hermione, looking at the other girl, who simply shrugged.

"As much as I love tea, I'm not really fond of the company I would keep if I joined the Slug Club." She sighed. "I mean... Most of the boys in there come from purist families and, well, I'm a half-blood. It wouldn't work."

"Hey... Running away from the current subject, could any of you explain what are those extra classes Slughorn talked about?" the witch asked as they finally reached the stairs that would lead them outside the dungeons.

"Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you about those," whispered Minerva. "You see, here at Hogwarts we have our usual classes, like the one we just had, and the extra classes. What we learn in those are like... Extensions of the usual subjects, things we won't really use at our level of education, but may be useful in the future."

"They're post-Hogwarts level studies," explained Weasley. "We don't have the obligation to learn it here because we'll end up learning it all in our post-Hogwarts work. Potions classes, for example: in those extras, we learn about how the potions work inside a witch or wizard's body, the so-called 'mechanisms of action'."

"There's a lot of Muggle knowledge in those classes as well, and that's why there aren't that many people who take them," said McGonagall. "But, as Septimus said, in Potions' extra classes, we learn about how potions work in our bodies, for example, but we don't need to know it at this level of education, I mean, we won't be questioned about this on the NEWTs or anything like that and, for example, if a student decides to become a healer, he will be taught all these things again in his post-Hogwarts work."

"Of course," the Gryffindor whispered to herself. "1945's Decree of Educational Safety..."

Hermione raised her brows as she finally understood what they were talking about. Of course she wouldn't remember those classes from her time: they didn't exist anymore The witch now remembered having read about how, right after the fall of Grindelwald, the British, French, Eastern European, American and Brazilian Ministries of Magic agreed to sign a bill that would cut out of wizarding schools the teaching of intricate magical theory. The schools – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Beauxbatons Academy, Durmstrang Institute, Salem Witches' Institute, and the Ondine School of Magical Arts – would be allowed to teach their students Magical Theory as a basic subject, something they would have in their first years in order to understand how magic worked, but that each discipline wouldn't go too deep into their own theories. In Hermione's opinion, it was one of the stupidest laws the wizarding world could ever come up with, but the higher members of the Ministries believed it was a good way to prevent their young witches and wizards from getting too deep into the Dark Arts... Hermione, and a great part of the magical world, knew they were only doing that because they had noticed how, during the war against Grindelwald, the most powerful dark wizards – Grindelwald included – were the ones who actually had the greatest knowledge about magical theory of different fields, and most of the time this was applied to the field of the Dark Arts. Preventing the younger ones from learning those theories would prevent them of getting great in certain kinds of magic, and it would create a weaker youth that would only come in touch with that powerful information once they started another level of their teaching and it would be a much more centred thing, not like before where a student could have great knowledge of magical theory about Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and Dark Arts all at the same time. The only thing they didn't expect was that their next great enemy would be a kid who was part of one of the last generations that enjoyed the old teaching system and, therefore, knew everything about magical theory.

"What?"

"That's really interesting," said Hermione, smiling at Minerva and trying to avoid her question. "I mean... I bet you guys must learn a hell of a lot of interesting things in those classes."

"We're lucky they don't end up in our tests, because sometimes you end up thinking about quitting the magical world when you notice how freaking difficult magic actually is." Charlus sighed and then smiled to her. "But then you remember you don't really need to understand all those things..."

"Yet," said Minerva.

"Okay, yet."

* * *

After lunch, Hermione hurried to Transfiguration class. It was in the same classroom that she had the subject in the future. The only difference was that, in the 1940s, the girl could see that it wasn't Professor McGonagall teaching there simply by looking around the place. At the front of the long room, behind the teacher's desk, there was a huge cupboard that occupied the whole wall and that was filled with books, photo frames and a great variety of unknown and weird- looking objects. The blackboard was on the right of Dumbledore's desk, while, on its left, there was what seemed to be a golden metal stand where, on the top of it, perched a beautiful, red bird. It looked like a smaller and red version of a peacock and, as soon as Hermione stepped into the room, its dark eyes locked onto her.

"You already exist." The girl whispered, smiling. Even though she was the only one in the place at the moment, she didn't want to risk getting caught talking like that. "I've only had the chance to look at you once, and it wasn't in the best of light..." She approached the bird, her smile now turning into something sad. "But I must say I found your song beautiful."

"Do you always talk to yourself?"

The witch spun around, her widened eyes finding a familiar face staring back at her. Abraxas Malfoy stood by the door, holding a few books in his arms with a dark, leather bag hanging off his shoulder. He had a playful smile on his thin lips, and let a chuckle escape from his mouth. He walked up to a desk, putting his books on top of it and sitting down.

"That's none of your business," said Hermione, crossing her arms in front of her chest while the other simply opened one of his books.

The Slytherin simply raised an eyebrow at her before looking back down at his book. The witch took a deep breath, sitting down on a table a few metres in front of Malfoy. Taking her Transfiguration and Potions book out of her bag, the girl opened the latter and started reading its introduction. As Slughorn didn't give them any real information during the whole morning, there wasn't much she could study based on the class, so she simply kept reading the book in order to be busy enough to ignore the other occupant of the room. Hermione's attention was only taken from her reading when the sound of footsteps echoed around the classroom once again, vanishing as the person who walked in sat a few tables behind her. She heard the noise of the newcomer taking their stuff out from their bag and, soon after that, there were more footsteps, followed by loud male voices. The girl didn't recognize the voices and decided not to pay attention to their conversation.

"You're hasty, aren't you?" It was only when the classroom was starting to get crowded, that Gryffindor finally looked up upon hearing the familiar voice. "May I sit here?"

"Of course," the girl smiled up at Minerva McGonagall, who sat down next to her. "I guess this is your class, right? I mean, Septimus said you're a genius when it comes to Transfiguration."

"I simply like the subject." She shrugged. "It's interesting and we're lucky to have a good teacher responsible for it..."

"It's Dumbledore, right?"

"Yes. He's a powerful wizard and can teach very well, so... Good class!" Minerva grinned widely. "Amazing class."

"Alright, Ms. Marwick, Ms. Akins, I'm sure the subject of your conversation is incredibly interesting – I mean, when isn't the good looks of a certain Quidditch player not interesting, hm? – but I must ask you two to sit down now so we can start our class." Hermione turned around and a smile spread across her face as she saw Dumbledore, wearing a long, purple robe and a pointed hat of the same colour, walking into the class, smiling down at a couple of Slytherin girls who giggled at his request and went to sit at the nearest empty table.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the teacher said as he finally reached his desk. Albus took off his hat and put it down on his table before approaching his phoenix and stroking its head. "I hope all of you had a good summer break." The man smiled. "I believe Professor Slughorn already made quite the speech about how fast all of you grew and how proud he's of your achievements through the years, and that's why I'm not going into that subject... That, however, doesn't mean I don't share Horace's point of view about your last year here at Hogwarts, I simply don't want to bother you."

Dumbledore took his wand out of his pocket and waved it at the blackboard. A piece of chalk floated in the air and started to write on it.

"Now, as everyone knows, the field of Transfiguration is composed of four branches: Transformation, Vanishment, Conjuration and Untransfiguration," the wizard explained. As he spoke, the names of the branches appeared on the black board. "Since your first year, you've learned a lot about Transformation and Vanishment, subjects that were tested on your OWLs. Last year you had more of these two branches and started working on Conjuration. This year you'll improve your Conjuration skills and learn about Untransfiguration. As we will start with the former, can someone give me an example of Conjuration? Ms McGonagall?"

"Incarcerous?"

"Exactly. Anyone else? Oh, yes, Mr Riddle?"

"Serpensortia." Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes as she heard the Slytherin's voice. Of course Riddle would mention the Serpensortia spell.

"Good. A tricky one, Serpensortia, for you'll be conjuring a living thing, but still, right... Anyone else?" Granger didn't have time to register her hand shooting up in the air, she only knew that she knew several conjuration spells and that she wouldn't stay behind Tom for too long. "Ms. Elston?"

"Avis, Incendio and Orchideous?"

"Very good." The girl restrained herself from turning her head to look at the Slytherin wizard. It was a silly thing, she knew, to compete in class like that, but what could she do? It was an automatic thing. Also, the fact Riddle looked so annoyed and confused earlier in Potions, when she answered Slughorn's question, only made it more amazing to her. "Now, all those incantations create things 'out of thin air', in layman's terms. Incarcerous can be used to create ropes to tie something or someone; Serpensortia conjures a snake..."

"How very Slytherin." Hermione heard Minerva whisper and chuckle.

"While Avis conjures birds; Incendio creates fire and Orchideous conjures flowers."

As it was their first class of the school year, Dumbledore spent the whole time he had with them explaining the subject's theory, which could have been quite exhaustive if it wasn't for the teacher's good mood and the fact he, from time to time, stopped talking about his subject to make a silly joke or tell a story of his in order to relax the students a bit. Like she expected – for it to be their first class and only have theory – Transfiguration class ended earlier that day, with Professor Dumbledore releasing them almost one hour before the established time for their class to really end.

"Just don't let Professor Dippet know I'm letting you go early," the teacher said, going back to his phoenix and raising his hand so the bird could nibble on his fingers. "He doesn't like it when we finish our classes early, but I won't keep you kids here if I have nothing interesting to talk about... Unless you want to hear a joke about a Leprechaun and a Werewolf who met during Halloween."

* * *

"So, how was it?"

"Hm?" Hermione tore her eyes away from the view of the Hogwarts grounds she had from the window which she was sitting by in Gryffindor tower. Charlus Potter was standing in front of her, leaning against the wall.

"Your first day here at Hogwarts, how was it?" the boy asked, smiling.

That was a good question. How was her first day at Hogwarts during the 1940s? It was, at the very least, weird. During the lessons, the witch felt as if she wasn't in a different time, in truth; it was all the same: listening to the teacher, taking notes, understanding the subject and answering questions. It was as if she went into autopilot mode while she was into a classroom with a subject being thrown at her, but, as soon as the class ended and the influx of information stopped, the girl was hit by the cruel reality: she was stuck into the past, almost three decades before she was even born, without her parents and friends, alone. And, to make everything worse, Hermione knew very well those she loved were in danger. The girl knew Harry and Ron were out there, in the future, running after Horcruxes and being chased by Death Eaters; that her parents were hiding in Australia with their memories modified so they wouldn't even remember she existed... And where was she? In 1944, having Potions and Transfiguration classes with the grandparents of her classmates, not to mention Voldemort himself. If the thought of being away from everyone she loved while they were fighting in a war already made a bad feeling appear in her stomach, thinking that she was now sleeping under the same roof and eating the same food as the man who was the reason everyone was endangered made her feel everything in her belly twist.

"Hermione?"

"It was good," she answered him, smiling, but not able to hide the sadness.

"Are you alright? You look... Disturbed." Charlus slightly inclined his head. The girl simply laughed quietly as she stood up and shook her head.

"Yes, I am," she reassured him but noticed Potter didn't seem too convinced by her answer. "I'm just tired."

"Are you homesick?" he asked. "Because there's no need to be ashamed of that... Everyone gets a bit homesick once they come here."

"Hm, I guess you can call it homesickness, yes." Hermione shrugged.

"Maybe you should write to your parents, it helps, you know? At least it helped me when I was a first year." The boy laughed. "I was really excited when I came to Hogwarts, but after the first week I realized that I was away from my parents and became a little sad. I missed everything from home... My bed, my pillow, my father's owl tapping on the window, our cat jumping onto my face when I was asleep, my mum's voice as she sang while cooking, my dad's jokes, the smell of my mum's biscuits, the view outside my window... I even missed the graveyard that I always walked by before. I wrote my mother, telling her I wanted to go back home, and that I wanted to be homeschooled like my cousin Benjamin..."

"And how did it go away? The sadness."

"I started to write to my parents almost every day, and they would tell me how things were back home. I felt as if I was there, you know? Knowing what was going on at Godric's Hollow made me think I was there with them," the boy explained. "I also stopped sulking in the corners and started to talk more with everyone from Gryffindor."

"I'm not sulking in a corner!" Hermione laughed.

"What? Oh, no! I didn't mean it that way, Hermione!"

"It's alright, don't worry." The witch took a deep breath and smiled at her housemate. "You know, I think you're right: I should write to them... I think I'll do it right now, and then, I'll be off to bed because I'm almost falling asleep here."

"Alright then, my dear. If we don't see each other until tomorrow morning: good night."

"Thank you, Charlus." _'I'll surely need it.'_

* * *

**A/N:** thank you everyone who reviewed on last chapter and for those who added the story to their favourite or alert :) I'm not being able to write too much here on the computer thanks to the intravenous access I have on my hand right now {maybe I'll answer the reviews tomorrow, all right? Once I get this acess out of my arm}. Some not-so-nice stuff happened to me this week and now I'm getting to know the hospital as a patient {I broke my jaw. Yey. Had a surgery to correct it today.} Anyway:

**1- "1945's Decree of Educational Safety:** rather inspired by stuff I learnt about the Dictature on Brazil, when they had the censorship controlling all the information on the country.

**2- The Ondine School of Magical Arts:** one of the schools of magic that joined the 45's Decree is the brazilian school of magic that Bill Weasley talked about on GoF. In portuguese it would be something along the lines of "Escola de Artes Mágicas de Ondina" and, in my head, it is placed in an island near Florianópolis (which is placed on the island of Santa Catarina). Why this place? Florianópolis is full of folk tales about witches, magic and magical creatures. So, yeah, I imagine the school in an island near Floripa. And the name, Ondine/Ondina is the name of a water nymph/protector of the waters... I thought it would be a good name for a school of magic placed in an island. Also, there is a neighborhood in a city here in Brazil called Ondina, the city is Salvador.

I guess that's it for now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter :D

Ari.


	7. Of pure and half blood

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 07: Of pure and half blood  
**

* * *

Tom sighed as he finished copying the last sentence from the blackboard. The Slytherin hated the first few weeks of classes. They were always filled with boring lectures and teachers trying to cheer them up for the new school year, but the amount of real subjects was close to zero. Slughorn's class the previous day was a good example of that: they did nothing more than answer a few simple questions and listen to their teacher speak about his nostalgic feelings. A pure waste of time. Charms was not much different: their teacher simply let them know about their schedule of the year and kept rambling about their subject in a really quick and simple way. At least Professor Toulson skipped the nostalgic feelings part.

"How much time do we still have?" whispered Atlas, not bothering to look at him or raise his from his folded arms on the table.

"Why don't you take a look at your watch?" asked Riddle, putting down his quill and shifting his attention to the teacher.

"My watch is in my pocket, my hands are under my head and I don't feel like moving it to use my hands," Avery grumbled. "Come on, Tom, just tell me if it's about to end."

The smaller boy rolled his eyes before rolling up his sleeve to take a look on his watch, ignoring the odd glance his housemate gave when he saw it. Compared to Avery's elegant, golden pocket watch that had belonged to his grandfather, Tom's hand-me-down wristwatch looked even more tattered than it really was. He quickly covered it as soon as he checked the time. He didn't need the other staring at the object that had once belonged to the orphanage's doctor with that suspicious look for too long.

"Five minutes until it ends."

"You should buy a new watch," murmured Atlas, looking back to the other side of the classroom. "I know it must be something passed down in your family, as those things usually are like that, but yours almost needs to be thrown away."

"It still works, there's no need to get rid of it."

"If you say so." Avery raised an eyebrow and laughed quietly. Tom followed his gaze and found Hermione Elston staring back at his housemate with an annoyed expression on her face. A smug smile appeared on Avery's lips, and the witch rolled her eyes and looked away. "Look at the new girl. She's already acting like a Gryffindor."

"That's what she is, isn't it? A Gryffindor," said Riddle. "A mindless and impulsive Gryffindor, like all the others."

"Yes, as if we needed more of those idiots..." Avery laughed.

"Mr. Avery, care to share with us the reason for your good mood?" Atlas' face turned serious and he straightened himself up when he heard the teacher's call.

"It's nothing, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," the Slytherin said automatically, but, as soon as Professor Toulson turned around, he snorted and slumped down in his chair once again._ "Filthy Mudblood."_

"Watch your tongue, Avery," warned Tom in a low tone of voice as he watched the older wizard.

"I know you think the same."

"Indeed. But it's not wise to go around saying these things, especially when we're talking about a teacher."

"Whatever you say... Oh, _finally!_" Avery gave a small cry of joy when he heard the teacher dismiss them for the day. "I couldn't stand it anymore."

Before Tom could even pack his things, Atlas was already up and leaving the room. The smaller Slytherin took a deep breath and finished putting his things inside his bag before getting up and heading to the door, deciding to not speed up his pace in order to catch up with Avery. He was in no hurry to get to the Great Hall and have lunch, so he didn't have to run like a madman like his colleague always did. That was one of Atlas Avery's greatest flaws: his hastiness. The wizard couldn't wait for the sake of Merlin, he was always in a hurry, always running and acting without thinking about the consequences. It hadn't been just once that the other almost exposed them due to that annoying habit of his.

As he walked through the crowd of students leaving the classroom, Riddle spotted Elston once again. The girl was busy chatting with Minerva McGonagall, the irritating Gryffindor prefect who was always trying to compete with him, who kept moving her hands through the air as she spoke to the new student. Tom could only guess that Minerva was talking about her beloved Quidditch and laughed quietly as he wondered how someone like McGonagall, who, though annoying, had enough brains to keep her grades high, and enjoy that silly sport so much. He took one more look at them and noticed that, now, the Elston girl was not paying attention to her friend anymore. Minerva hadn't noticed, but Elston was staring at the end of the corridor, more specifically at him, and nor did she notice how the other girl's face suddenly turned into a mask of what seemed to be disgust or something like that.

Tom let a tiny smile appear on his lips, faking a polite greeting to the annoyed looking witch, who simply sighed and looked away from him. Now, that was interesting... It was rare for him to find someone who reacted like that to him. Usually the other students thought he was polite and seemed happy to see all that politeness coming from him – girls, in particular, liked his small acts of politeness the most... Merlin knows how some of them seemed to fly up to the clouds if he simply said 'Good Morning' or asked them how were they were doing. Only a small number of people appeared to be unresponsive to his charm, McGonagall being one of them (actually, it depended on the day. He had already managed to tear a smile and a blush from her once or twice), and Charlus Potter and Albus Dumbledore were two others. Most of the time those who seemed unaffected by his charm annoyed Tom to the end... They just kept talking about how fake he was and how he used nice words to climb to the top but Riddle couldn't help but think that they did the very same thing: McGonagall was always throwing compliments at Dumbledore, who thought of her as his favourite student; Potter flattered his housemates all the time, and they mistook it for his "friendly nature"; and Dumbledore... He didn't even want to think the amount of flatteries the wizard must have done in his whole life in order to get where he was now. Tom wished that someone, one day, would write a book about Albus Dumbledore, containing all the details of his life... The boy was sure it was full of dark secrets, like his own, that only someone really good at research – a journalist, most likely – and really patient would be able to find out. He truly wished he would be alive the day someone released a trustworthy biography of his Transfiguration teacher because he wouldn't hesitate to buy and read the hell out of it.

"Tom!" Riddle stopped walking and Abraxas Malfoy quickly appeared by his side. "Where's Atlas?"

"Considering how fast he was running when he left class," started Riddle. "He must already be at the Great Hall."

The Slytherin let himself stare at Malfoy for a few seconds as they headed to lunch. If Avery was the hasty one, not stopping to think and acting without worrying, Abraxas was the opposite. The blond simply acted when ordered to do so. Once an order left Tom's mouth, it was guaranteed that Malfoy would accomplish it. He was a good dog. A puppy that would follow his master up and down the castle, taking all the orders it was given and coming back with his tail waving happily. Maybe that was why he trusted Abraxas the most. Not that he would pour all of his thoughts and secrets into the boy; no, Riddle would never do that with anyone... But he could trust Malfoy when it came to organizing a meeting, spreading a message or anything of the sort.

"Tell me, Abraxas," the Slytherin asked as they walked into the Great Hall, heading to the Slytherin table. "Will you be taking Care of Magical Creatures this year?"

"Of course." The blond smiled. "Why would I drop it?"

"So why would you drop Arithmancy?" Tom asked coldly.

"Because I don't like numbers and the feeling seems to be mutual between lots of people," said Abraxas, laughing. "But I do like Care of Magical Creatures."

"I see." As he had expected, Riddle saw Avery already at the table. "Will you be taking any extras?"

"Charms, Defense and Care. You?"

"Charms, Defence, Potions, Transfiguration... All the classes that offer them," the dark haired wizard said, sitting down in front of Atlas. "Not all the subjects have good extras, you know. Runes and Arithmancy are pretty boring because Yorick and Vertal can't teach."

"Why do you take those classes if you don't like them?" asked Avery, finally paying attention to them. "They're electives."

"Because they're important, Avery."

"_Important_," said Atlas in a mocking tone. "Arithmancy is basically reading the future through numbers, which is almost as useless as Divination, and Runes is learning to read those useless signs. It's like... Like learning Russian! A lot of strange letters from a language no one uses."

"Say that to the Soviet Union."

"The what?" Atlas narrowed his eyes as he looked at Tom.

"_Russia_, Avery, say that to Russia," explained Riddle.

"Oh, and how many Russians do we see in Britain, Tom? Or, if we do see one, how many of them can speak English?" asked the Slytherin before taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Same thing with Runes: there are books written with them, but how many of those books are translated to English?"

"You can use Runes in spells." Tom narrowed his eyes. It amazed him how someone like Avery, who had come from a respectable pure-blooded family, could be so ignorant about some things.

"The spells that need the Runes are described in spell books with everything we need to know. The books give us the runes we need to use and when we do as it says... It's as simple as that and the spell comes out perfectly." The boy shrugged, going back to his meal. "But, alright, if you want to continue wasting your time with those classes..."

"You know, Avery," whispered Tom, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "That's exactly why you're where you are now."

"What do you mean?"

"Abraxas?"

"Yes?" Malfoy finally spoke, leaning in towards the other Slytherin.

"Do you know what I'm trying to say?" Riddle's smile grew larger when he saw the confused expression on Atlas' face grow as the Slytherin looked over to the blond.

"I... I'm afraid I don't, I'm sorry."

"I think you do, but you're scared of offending Atlas in case you say so." Tom chuckled. "You shouldn't be worried about that. You'll be telling the truth, nothing more and nothing less than that, but you insist on being a bad friend and keeping Avery from knowing it." He looked back at the taller Slytherin who sat on the opposite side of the table and spoke in a low, soft voice. "I mean, that it is exactly because of this behaviour of yours that you'll never leave the place where you stand now. It's for being ignorant that you'll never be more than a servant, Avery. Ignorant people are bound to obey orders. That's what you do now and that's what you'll spend the rest of your life doing."

Riddle saw Atlas' face tense up as the information sunk in. The other wizard opened and closed his mouth several times, as if trying to come up with something to say, before shutting it and furrowing his brows. Malfoy, by his side, widened his eyes and kept looking from Avery to Tom and vice versa.

"Do you want to say something, Avery?" asked the smaller boy, tilting his head to the side.

"No..." the dark haired wizard whispered, his voice trembling a little. "No, sir."

"Good."

It was good to be back at Hogwarts. It was extremely good to be in a place where he could, once again, stop restraining himself from speaking certain things, even if this freedom was restricted to his group of housemates... It was good to be able to speak whatever came into his mind.

* * *

_ "Dear Hermione,_

_ It's wonderful to hear you're doing well at the school and it didn't let you down – although I doubted it would, I mean... It didn't let Riddle down, right? If he, who is the most exigent creature on Earth, liked Hogwarts, you surely would enjoy it too. Things here in London are all right, too. Our classes started a few days ago and now we don't have time to breathe properly anymore. Oh, Hermione, who was that friend of yours, Mr. Ollivander? Where did you meet him? He's absolutely adorable, such a gentleman... A bit odd, true, and he could try to comb his hair a bit, but still, a nice man. He told me he works with crafting, if I understood correctly. He promised me he would try to send you this letter as soon as possible and I hope you get it quickly._

_ Having the room to myself is getting boring again. No one to talk to, no one to bother... If things keep going this way I'll have to go out to find that Mr. Ollivander of yours in order to have a good chat with him – we did have a good chat when he came over, but I had to shoo him as soon as Susan Connick appeared at the door. You have no idea of how much I had to hear from her about how 'I should not be talking to strangers, especially an older, male stranger!'... I had to convince Mrs. Cole that he wasn't any kind of kidnapper or pervert in order to be able to talk to him the next time he comes here to deliver your letters._

_ I hope you're still doing well there and, as I said before, make your friend proud – and try to get higher grades than Riddle, I heard he used to get the best grades when he was still studying here._

_ Love,_

_ Anna Parker."_

A wide smile appeared on Hermione's face as she finished reading the letter sent by her former roommate at the orphanage. It made her giggle the way Anna spoke about Ollivander, and she couldn't help but imagine the girl hanging out with the wizard, being the lovely person she was, while having no idea of what he actually was... Also, just trying to imagine Garrick Ollivander with his hair properly combed, as Parker had suggested for him to do, made the Gryffindor laugh.

"A letter from your boyfriend, Ms. Elston?" The girl raised her head, seeing Minerva McGonagall standing by their dorms' door. The other Gryffindor was wearing the red robes Hermione recognized as the ones the Quidditch team wore during their games and practices.

Quickly, Hermione tucked the other envelope she had received – this one had Ollivander's handwriting on it – under her pillow. She didn't need Minerva to read the man's letter and discover her accident with the time-turner in case he had mentioned it in his text.

"It's just from a friend." She waved Anna's letter as the other girl approached her bed, sitting in front of her.

"Um, from the way you were smiling, it's _surely_from a friend," the witch said teasingly, as she stretched out her hand.

"As if I would lie about something like that," Granger rolled her eyes and handed her the letter. McGonagall giggled as she looked at it, but quickly stopped as she started reading it, noticing the other was really telling the truth about the lack of the existence of a boyfriend. "See?"

"Why does this friend of yours require Mr. Ollivander to send you her letters?" asked McGonagall, raising an eyebrow as she looked up to Hermione. That was not good... In her rush to hide the wizard's letter, the Gryffindor had completely forgotten about the fact he was mentioned in Anna's text. As well as how Riddle was mentioned in it too.

"She... She's a Muggle," the girl tried to explain. She really couldn't lie about this. "I had a talk with Mr. Ollivander while I was at the Diagon Alley and asked him to deliver my letters to her as I couldn't send her owls."

"Oh, I see. And, she mentioned an orphanage." Minerva's expression changed from suspicion to worry as she tapped the paper. "Hermione, you never mentioned an orphanage..."

"It's not something I like to... share openly." The girl shrugged, giving a saddened smile to the other. "It's rather recent."

"Dippet said you came to Hogwarts due to family issues..."

"My parents were murdered by Grindelwald's followers a few months ago." Hermione hated that lie, but there was nothing else she could say. That was now her story and she had to stay true to it. "They were Muggles, as I already said. I was home schooled in witchcraft by a wizarding family that lived near us. I had been friends with their kids since I was little and they were really happy when I started to show signs of magic. As their children wouldn't attend any school of magic, they said they could teach me along with them and...Well, that's what happened. Unfortunately, some men who believed in Grindelwald found us and weren't really happy to hear that a wizarding family was living in peace with a Muggle one."

"Hermione," whispered Minerva, putting down the letter and looking at her with a look she had seen on her future teacher's face when she was really worried about something, like the day Sirius had invaded Gryffindor Tower. "I'm so sorry, I didn't... I didn't have any idea that you had..."

"No one, aside from you, has any idea about it at all." The Gryffindor smiled, shaking her head. "It's in the past; I have to go on... I don't want people pitying me for it."

"I understand." Minerva nodded. "So you lived in this Muggle orphanage since then? You didn't have any other relatives?"

"Yes. Once it all happened, I wrote to Professor Dippet, asking him for a place in Hogwarts. He accepted it due to my condition, so I had to stay only a few weeks in the orphanage." The girl took the letter and raised it. "That's where I met Anna."

"She seems to be a nice girl."

"She is really lovely." Hermione smiled, glad that McGonagall had stopped reading the letter before reaching the part where her friend talked about Tom Riddle. "The kind of person you think it's a shame that they aren't a wizard or witch."

"Oh, I know what you mean." Minerva rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "I wouldn't think twice before taking the magic of certain wizards and witches and give it to some worthy Muggles... The wizarding world would be way better if we could do that."

Hermione simply gave her housemate an awkward smile. If that was a possible option, she knew very well whose magic she would take first.

"Well, I think I should take a bath and get dressed for dinner," said McGonagall, getting up and taking her robe out, hanging it on the headboard of her bed. "We have Astronomy today..."

"I had completely forgotten about that," groaned Hermione.

"Yes... And I bet we'll stay there until midnight." The other Gryffindor rummaged through her trunk, finding a clean uniform, and heading to the bathroom. "Last week was the first class, so it was pretty short, but today Professor Brecht will make us stay until we can't keep our eyes open anymore."

"You make him sound like a horrible person." The brunette laughed and heard the other laugh behind the bathroom's closed door.

Minerva was quick to bathe and get dressed, so, after a while, they were already down on the Great Hall, sitting next to Charlus and Septimus, as (Hermione had noticed since she arrived there) usual. The witch had been at Hogwarts for little more than a week now and, slowly, she was getting used to it and its new inhabitants. Sure, she missed Harry and Ron and was terribly worried about them, but, in order to avoid feeling miserable because of that, she tried to occupy herself with everything that could possibly be done: homework, essays, extra classes, random books she found in the library... Anything that could take the future away from her head was an option for her. During the week she had spent in this past Hogwarts, Hermione found herself on the verge of crying only once; when she was in bed, on Sunday, while all the other girls from her dormitory were asleep. It was moments like those that the witch felt how lonely she really was... But, with her luck, during most of the time she was in the company of Minerva, Charlus and Septimus, whose loud and cheerful conversations were great when it came to make her forget about the future.

"I heard Kettleburn will be bringing hippogriffs this year," said Septimus Weasley as he filled his goblet with more pumpkin juice. "Isn't it wicked?"

"Wicked, indeed," said McGonagall, grimacing at her friend. "It'll be wicked awesome when one of the students ends up with no head."

"Merlin's beard, Minnie." Charlus laughed. "The man is a teacher, he knows what he's doing."

"Yes, he's the teacher who tried to convince his students that it would be nice to swim into the Dark Lake in order to interact with the Giant Squid." The girl rolled her eyes and looked at Hermione. "I took his classes, Care of Magical Creatures, until fifth year. It was in that year, during winter, that he took us to the lake and said that, thanks to the chilly weather, the Giant Squid would be really friendly, and so we should get in the water and say hello to it."

"Minnie freaked out," explained the red haired boy. "And ended up dropping the class after that."

"Not before running back to the castle, telling Dumbledore that Professor Kettleburn had lost his mind." Potter laughed, giving a friendly slap on Minerva's shoulder.

"I did the right thing," said McGonagall, puffing her chest. "If I hadn't called Professor Dumbledore, that idiotic Malfoy would have been dragged away by the Squid!"

"You should have let it happen," said Potter, shrugging as he turned around to look over to the Slytherin table. Hermione could see Abraxas Malfoy sitting down next to who she thought was Avery. "Hogwarts would be grateful with you."

"Charlus," said Minerva, looking up to something behind the boy. "Shut up and smile."

"What?"

Hermione stretched her neck to see what the other girl was looking at and smiled when she saw the short and lovely looking Slytherin girl that was called Dorea Black approaching them with a tiny smile on her face.

"Smile, Charlus," said Hermione.

"Why should I smi..."

"Hello, Charlus!"

The boy almost jumped in his seat when he heard the Slytherin's voice. Minerva stiffed a laugh, looking around in order to avoid staring at Potter's reddened face, while Septimus didn't even bother trying to hide the fact he found how his friend reacted to Dorea's arrival funny.

"Dorea, darling," gasped Charlus, looking at the girl who was now sitting next to him. "H-Hello... How are you doing?"

"I'm good, thanks." The witch smiled, pushing her glasses back onto her nose. "Will you be in Astronomy today?"

"Sure. Erm, will Alphard be there too...?"

"Yes, he'll be there, but there's no need to worry," explained Dorea. "You know Al is nice."

"I don't worry about him," said the wizard, running a hand through his brown hair and giving out a nervous laugh. "What worries me the most are his friends."

"Don't worry, I bet Tom will keep them away." Hermione felt her face twist with disgust when she heard the Slytherin's name. "You know how he keeps Malfoy, Avery and Lestrange backed away when he wants to."

"And what makes you think Riddle will be nice enough to keep his friends away from you and Charlus?" asked the bushy haired girl before she could even notice what she was doing.

"Oh, Tom is a nice boy." The Black girl smiled at her. "He won't let the other boys annoy us."

"Minnie doesn't think he's that nice," said Potter, looking over to McGonagall, who simply shook her head, focusing on her food again. "She thinks he shouldn't be trusted."

"And so do you."

"I just think he's an arse kisser..."

"Charlus!"

"Sorry, darling." The boy smiled at the Slytherin girl. "It's just that... He's always trying to please everyone, flattering God and the world. It's just plain annoying."

"Maybe he just likes to please people."

"Hufflepuffs like to help people, Dorea. Slytherins do that when they want something from who they're helping."

"Oh, is that so?" the Slytherin asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking at the boy with a raised eyebrow.

"You're an exception!" Charlus face turned red as he put an arm around the girl's shoulder. "You're a good snake."

"You and your Gryffindor way of thinking." She shook her head, laughing, before turning to Hermione. "Don't let them make you think that we, Slytherins, are a bunch of evil, manipulative snakes, Ms. Elston... It's Elston, am I right?"

"Yes, Hermione Elston. And you're Dorea Black, right?"

"Right. As I was saying, we can be good people, I mean, look at Professor Slughorn, he's a good man, isn't he? And the Head of Slytherin. Also, Amata and Irina are nice too."

"Irina Akins is great with History of Magic," whispered Minerva. "Only a few people can beat her in it."

"You being one of them?" Hermione murmured.

"Unfortunately, no...Riddle is one instead."

"And there's Al and Tom, who are also good people," continued Dorea. "Basically, the ones who make Slytherin look like an evil house are Abraxas, Atlas, Canopus and our dear Walbie."

"Merlin's beard, do not mention her," said Septimus. "I'm sorry, Dorea, I know she's your niece but... She has given us some hard times over the years here at Hogwarts."

"She gives everyone a hard time, Septimus." The Black girl sighed.

"Who are you talking about?" asked Hermione, trying not to drift away from their conversation.

"Walburga Black ," said Potter, pulling a face. "She's Dorea's niece and, well, she's kinda mad."

Walburga Black. As soon as the girl heard the name, the screams and insults coming from Sirius' mother's portrait back in the Grimmauld Place echoed inside her head. Yes, the Gryffindor boy was right: she was mad.

"And she is your... Niece?"

"Yes, you see, there's a huge age difference between me and my brother, Pollux," explained Dorea. "He's thirty five now. My older sister, Cassiopeia, is twenty nine... And I am seventeen. Pollux married young and had Walbie when he was eighteen, but first came Alphard."

"Alphard is also your brother's child?" the Gryffindor raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and little Cygnus too. He's in the fifth year now." She smiled.

"Oh... That's..."

"Complicated, I know, but that's how it works with the Blacks." The girl shrugged, looking around. "At moment, we're five in a number of five Blacks at Hogwarts: Walburga, Alphard, Cygnus, Orion – who is my cousin – and I."

"That's a huge family." Hermione laughed, followed by the Slytherin girl.

"Indeed. I think I'll be going to the Astronomy Tower so I can get a good place in there. Want me to save a seat for you, Charlus?" Black got up and looked down to the boy next to her.

"Yeah, that'll be nice, thanks, Dorea." He waved his hand as he watched her walk away. "She's lovely, isn't she?"

"Her family must be lovely," said the bushy haired witch, stifling a laugh. "I'm sorry, but I just... Can you imagine how weird it must be for them? Five Blacks inside the same castle. Three in the same year! She has classes with her niece and nephew."

"As she said," began Minerva. "That's how the Blacks work, and not only them but most of the pure-blooded families. They inbreed until they can't do it anymore, in order to keep themselves pure."

"Which is stupid," said Charlus. "I mean, I'm a pureblood, but we reckon that it's really silly for people to inbreed like that simply because they don't want 'dirty blood' in their kids' veins."

"My family is all right with marrying someone who is not a pureblood," Septimus said. "We're actually considered blood traitors by some purebloods."

"So are we."

"And here I am, amongst those pureblooded idiots," said McGonagall, laughing quietly. "The half-blood."

"The best half-blood Hogwarts could ever get, Minnie."

"You're so kind, Septimus. But, yes, as I told you before, Hermione, I'm a half-blood: Muggle father and witch mother. And so are my brothers..."

"Wait," said Hermione, shaking her head. "Brothers?"

"Didn't I tell you about them?" the girl asked. "Well, I'm sorry... Malcolm and Robert, they're both Ravenclaws. Malcolm is in the third year while Robert is in the second. You know what? I think we should go, Dorea was right: we better get to the tower early to get good places."

During the walk to the Astronomy Tower, Hermione couldn't help but feel odd. She had never thought about the fact Minerva McGonagall, her severe and intelligent teacher, had a family... Maybe that happened to everyone: it's always difficult to picture one's teacher outside the classroom, living their own life. It was the same thing that happened when she and Harry had read Rita Skeeter's _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_. She had never dreamed Dumbledore had a sister or that he had associated with Grindelwald in his youth; those were the kind of thoughts that had never crossed her mind before reading the book.

As promised, Dorea Black had saved a telescope right next to her for Charlus. Septimus managed to get another one near the couple while Hermione and Minerva had to move to the other side of the tower, near a couple of girls from Slytherin. One of them had her dark her pulled up in a complicated hair style that made it look short. Her face was not the most beautiful face the Gryffindor had ever seen, but the serene and elegant look on it made her look pretty. One of the most beautiful things on her, Hermione noticed, were her big, dark eyes. The other girl had, in Hermione's opinion, a lovely face and beautiful brown eyes that matched with her dark brown hair and dark skin.

"Do you know them already?" asked Minerva.

"No... I mean, I've seen them along the week, but I don't know their names."

"Irina Akins." She gestured to the one with the complicated hair style. "And Amata Marwick. Both are purebloods but they're rather nice."

"Hello, Minerva." One of them, Amata, smiled and waved her hand. "Oh, that's the new girl, am I right?"

"Yes." McGonagall stopped by one of the free telescopes, putting her bag down next to it. "Hermione Elston."

"Nice to meet you, Hermione." The other girl finally spoke. Her voice was low and calm. "That's a nice name that you've got."

"Thank you. Although I think it's an awfully complicated name."

"Oh, no, it's a really interesting one." A smile appeared on Irina's face. "At least it's difficult for anyone to mistake it for another one, like how people insist in calling me Irene."

Minerva seemed to be ready to say something when a short man with short, dark hair walked into the tower. His blue cloak dragged across the stone floor as he hurried across the place, telling the students to get their materials ready while he kept pushing his round glasses up on his nose. Since she met him one week before, Hermione couldn't help but think Professor Brecht as almost comical, with his long, colourful cloaks that were always making him trip due to his hastiness and low height. But he was a good teacher and always sounded excited when talking about Astronomy.

As McGonagall had predicted, when the class finally ended, it was almost midnight and the students were practically sleep-walking back to their dormitories. Hermione, though interested in the extra class the teacher might give for another hour, felt too tired to stay, fearing that, if she did, she would end up sleeping by her telescope. McGonagall seemed to share her thoughts, for the girl didn't hesitate to pack her things as soon as professor Brecht stopped talking.

"Not staying?"

"No. Astronomy extras are nice when the sky is clear." The witch pointed to the clouded dark sky and sighed. "We merely managed to see something during class today."

The bushy haired girl looked around, seeing Septimus standing next to Dorea and Charlus, who were wishing a good night for each other, with a bored expression on his face. The Slytherin girls who sat near them during the whole class, Amata and Irina, were already leaving, just like another group of Slytherin boys that included Avery, Lestrange, Malfoy and another wizard she thought was Alphard Black due to his resemblance to most of the Blacks she had known. There was only one person who didn't seem to be leaving so soon.

"Riddle is staying."

"He always stays," said McGonagall, rolling her eyes. "I don't know what he does to be so well-disposed all the time... In the morning, he's there, the first one to arrive on class and the last to leave. On the afternoon, the same thing. And, when we have classes at night, again. The boy can't be human, he must be some kind of creature that feeds on light and air or something like that."

"Well, it's not very intelligent to waste all of his energy attending classes and draining everything from the teachers if he can't have some time for himself," said Hermione, remembering how Ron used to tease her about how she should take a break from studying sometimes. "It'll only tire him and he'll end up not doing well because of it..."

"Tom Riddle not doing well in school?" The other Gryffindor laughed. "Remember what Charlus and Septimus said? He's the best in here when it comes to grades... Unless we're talking about Transfiguration, of course." She giggled, shaking her head. "But, aside from that, I've never seen anyone beat him."

* * *

The girl's dormitory was already immersed in silence a few minutes after its occupants went to bed. That night there was no chatting before bed and Minerva didn't even need to turn out the lights in order to make everyone stop talking. That was good, in Hermione's opinion, it made it easier for her to finally finish reading the letter Mr. Ollivander had sent her earlier that day now that all the other girls were asleep and the only noise she could hear was her own breathing and the rustling of paper as she opened the envelope and took the letter out of it.

_"Dear Ms. Elston,_

_ As promised, here is your friends' letter. I went to the orphanage and was actually surprised to find such a cheerful girl as your friend in the middle of that dark and rather sad place. Being there only reminded me of how much the Muggle world is in danger and of how much we, wizards and witches, forget about it, focusing only on our own war._

_ Aside from Ms. Parker's letter, I'm afraid I don't have much news on your subject of interest. I talked with a few wizards I know that work with unique objects and they redirected me to a man I've never heard of before. I'll be trying to contact him as soon as possible._

_ Also, congratulations on being sorted into Gryffindor, although I had a small hope that you would end up in Ravenclaw, the house which I was in. I hope you're enjoying Hogwarts, Ms. Elston, and I'll be waiting for your next letter._

_ Garrick Ollivander."_

The girl sighed, trying to hide the disappointment she felt as she finished reading the letter. When she received the owl from Ollivander, Hermione had expected something useful, good or bad, but she knew that the wandmaker couldn't be blamed for the lack of information regarding time travel: it was a difficult subject and only a few wizards and witches dedicated their lives to studying it. Also, Ollivander didn't have all the time of the world to spend running after that bit of information for her; he had to work, had to take care of his shop and make new wands. She should feel grateful about the man agreeing to help her in first place.

Hiding the letter under her pillow once again, the girl laid down, whispered a quiet 'Nox' and getting lost into the darkness in the dormitory once again.

* * *

**A/N:** Finally, another chapter! Now, in order to avoid huge Author's Note explaining stuff I like to explain about the chapter, I'll, from now on, put all those little (or not so little) researches/facts about the story on my tumblr (**vasovagalsyncope . tumblr . com** ) under the tag "_kolybel_" or "_stuff for fanfiction_" {there's a little link for it on the sidebar of the blog}. I don't know, I usually like to see author's researches and stuff they do for their stories, so... I guess it would be ok to put these up on tumblr.**  
**

Thank you everyone who left a review on last chapter or who added the stories to their favourites/alert, really (:  
As always, reviews are always welcome and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	8. The Lord on the Hill

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 08: The Lord on the Hill  
**

* * *

He could feel the magic clinging to everything around him. On the floor, on the walls, on the objects... The whole house seemed to have magic flowing inside it; he could recognize it in his body as a warm feeling inside himself or a soft tingling on the tips of his fingers. So much magic in such a common place.

"My lord?"

The man didn't turn around to see whoever was talking to him and, soon enough, the person understood and quickly walked away. They all knew that his silence meant one thing: that he wanted to be alone. Yes, everything he needed at the moment was to be alone with that powerful magic in order to try to understand it. The energy he felt surely belonged to a powerful wizard or witch – wizard, according to his research – and he couldn't believe that the source of it was the one people had told him about. After all, someone with Muggle blood couldn't have such powerful magic in them; he had never seen it before and was sure that he would die without seeing a Mudblood exhibiting that kind of power.

But, still, there he was, standing in the middle of what seemed to have been some kind of atelier, feeling the energy and noticing how Muggle and ordinary the place was... The scent of paint in there could still be smelled and, even though most of the things were covered with white sheets and dust, it seemed completely alright for the one who had once owned the place to walk in and make the room alive again. Everything was so well organized that it would only take the artist to walk in there and make the atelier go back to its original state. Still, it was _so_ Muggle. The paintings that were already finished – the ones he had uncovered – didn't move; no, they stayed still, looking at him with their petrified eyes and unmoving faces.

"My lord?" Now it was another voice calling him. To this voice, he would turn, for he knew its owner was actually worth looking at while talking.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure this is the place?"

The man turned around and found himself looking at a tall woman with short, blond hair and incredibly cold grey eyes. She was not wearing a dress or a skirt like most witches did. Instead, she wore the same dark trousers, boots and robes he had most of his men dressed in. With her wand in her hand – because he knew she would never walk into an unknown place without her weapon ready, the witch stood by the door, a serious look on her face.

"What do you think, my dear?" he asked gently, smiling at her.

"There's no one here, sir..."

"Of course not, they're dead; you heard what they told us."

"Then, why are we here?"

The wizard's smile stayed on his face as he walked over one of the tables and took a photo frame from it. He ran his long fingers over its glass, taking away the dust from it, and leaned his head to the side as he looked at the picture. A smiling family was looking at him from the black and white, unmoving photograph.

"Tell me, Brunhild, can you feel it?" the man asked, finally moving from his spot, and approached her, handing her the photograph. The witch took it, hesitating a little, and looked at it for a few seconds, before raising her eyes at him again. "The magic, I mean... Stop worrying for a while, dear, and concentrate on the place around you." His smile widened when he noticed how her face seemed to relax a little as she looked around and, then, it changed again... Now it looked like she had finally understood what he was saying. "Do you understand now?"

"Did they have a wizard in here, sir? Is he who you're looking for?"

The man motioned for her to step into the room and, as she did, he managed to close the door behind her with a quick movement of his hand.

"You know very well you're one of my most reliable friends, Brunhild." He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "I've heard from some of my informants that there's a certain wizard here in England that is... threatening... us."

"Dumbledore?"

"Oh, no." He chuckled; shaking his head, his blond curls falling over his face. "Albus is another story, a completely different one... This one is much more dangerous to our _cause_ than to us."

"What do you...?"

"This magic you feel, it's pretty strong, isn't it?" She nodded. "It belongs to a Mudblood, Brunhild." The man felt satisfied when he saw the disgusted look that appeared on the woman's face. "Such strong magic in the hands of someone with dirty blood. Do you see why it's so dangerous? What if people start to think that blood doesn't matter? What if they think that Mudbloods can be as powerful as us purebloods? That'll be a disaster, as you know... Dirty wizards and witches matching up with the pure ones, or, worse than that, witches and wizards matching up with Muggles."

"That's disgusting."

"Indeed. So, this is why we're here: I've heard of this wizard, and I've discovered his name and what he does... He's a student, my dear."

"One of Hogwarts' Mudbloods."

"Exactly. Well, as you see, we can't let anyone notice his strength; otherwise, people will start to wonder..." He trailed off, his voice was calm and smooth, and the smile was still on his lips. "Such a young Mudblood with such powerful magic. If he can be like that, so can other dirty-blooded people!"

"Which one of them?" The woman pointed to the portrait in her hand.

"No one," he said, running his fingers over the photograph again, stopping on the top of face that belonged to a smiling young boy. "But I believe he looks like this one here."

"Relative?"

_"Father."_

The wizard watched her as the information seemed to sink into her mind. The main reason he was after that boy was not really clear in his own head. There were many reasons of why he would like to have the Mudblood finished off. First of all, he had dirty blood, which was enough reason. But then, there was the reason he had just told Brunhild about: one Mudblood with power seemed to be enough to make everyone believe that all of them could have the same power... And he couldn't have people thinking like that. Also, he could use a good attack on a student from the most well known school of witchcraft and wizardry as a blow in the face of the British Ministry of Magic. Also, he couldn't risk letting another powerful wizard running free around the world, no, not while he was in power... Unless, of course, the other powerful wizard decided to surrender and join him. The thought had appeared in his mind more than once since he had heard of the boy: he had a brilliant mind and powerful magic, from what they told him, and he could have a good use of those abilities. Maybe, _only maybe_, he could end up using the Mudblood for another purpose.

"What do you want me to do?" the woman asked, looking at him.

The man smiled.

"Go after him. Show everyone what we can do and, then, bring him to me. Torture is allowed, but I want him alive."

"Yes, sir." The wizard took the portrait from her hand and walked over to the table where he had gotten it. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What's the Mudblood name? It'll be easier for me to go after him knowing his name and not only what he is supposed to look like."

"It's a really boring, Muggle name, my dear." His eyes were fixated on the photograph again. Muggle pictures were really depressing, in this opinion. He hated those paralyzed people who kept staring at him with those lifeless eyes and petrified smiles. "Thomas Riddle, Brunhild. Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

* * *

Hermione was sure she woke up from the weirdest dream she had since he had gotten herself into the past. The girl didn't really know why it had been so weird... Maybe it was because it looked so real, the way she stood in the middle of Grimmauld Place, talking with Harry. Her friend was telling her about how they had escaped from the Malfoy Manor – something to do with Dobby, the house-elf – when the whole dream seemed to tremble and, slowly, it crumpled, making Harry vanish along with his story. It was odd, especially because she could still hear his voice inside her head, telling her what had happened inside the manor.

"It was just a dream, Hermione," she whispered to herself as she ran a hand through her bushy hair, feeling her fingers get stuck in its tangles.

The witch yawned and sat on her bed, pushing her hair away from her face before tucking her hand under her pillow and taking the pale wand that now belonged to her from under it. She was still getting used to it but, until now, her new wand seemed to be a good one. It obeyed her commands and didn't seem to diminish her magic... Yes, it was a good wand, as she would expect from Ollivander, and the fact it was made of the same wood as Tom Riddle's wand was already an unimportant fact to her. That minor coincidence had gotten her worried in the beginning, but now the witch had accepted that it was, as it seemed, just a coincidence.

Once she finally got up, the girl started to get herself ready for the day. As soon as she finished, Hermione looked down at her own body to see if everything was in its right place... Yes, her uniform was flawless, but, before heading down to the Great Hall to have breakfast, the witch sat down on her bed once again and listened to the silence of the place, just to make sure that, from the girls who were still in the dormitory, she was the only one awake. After a while, the witch unbuttoned the left sleeve of her white shirt, and rolled it up her arm.

Hermione was still wearing a bandage around the cuts Bellatrix had made in her arm in order to cover it. The sight of the word carved into her skin made her feel sick and she hated it, hated to be reminded of what that horrible woman had done to her and, worse, what she might have done with her friends after she travelled back in time. She unwrapped the bandage and grimaced when she saw how the cuts looked now. It was already way better in terms of healing, but, as she feared, it would leave an ugly scar on her arm. The skin above the cuts was now raised and slightly reddened.

Sighing, she wrapped the bandage around her forearm again and rolled down her sleeve, before getting up and putting on her cloak. She had more important things to do instead of wasting her time looking at scars and eating was one of those important things. So, after a few minutes, Hermione found herself sitting down at the Gryffindor's table, a few seats away from a group of boys that she recognized as Basil Hopkins, Hector Spinnet and George Johnson.

"Someone got up early today."

"Good morning, Charlus." The witch smiled when she turned around to see Potter sitting next to her. Her smile grew wider as she saw Dorea Black next to him, her arm entwined in his. "Good morning, Dorea."

"Morning, Hermione... May I call you Hermione?" the Slytherin asked.

"Of course."

"So, what made you get up so early? You and Minnie usually don't get up until seven," asked Charlus as he occupied himself with filling his plate with a few biscuits.

"Odd dream that woke me up." Hermione laughed, but noticed that Dorea seemed to look at her with an interested look on her pretty face.

"Odd dream you say? How was it like?"

"Come one, darling." Potter chuckled. "I bet Hermione just had a crazy dream and not a premonition..."

"I'm just curious." The girl sighed and looked at the other witch. "Charlus likes to make fun of the fact I take Divination, as you can see."

"Why do you take Divination? It's a rather useless class, isn't it?" The Gryffindor laughed as she poured pumpkin juice into her goblet. "It's a way too unstable field of magic. You can never be sure of it."

"Well, it's interesting."

"Yes, an interesting way to waste your time," whispered Hermione. She had a pretty strong idea of what Divination was like after her classes with Trelawney and it was difficult for the girl to understand why someone would actually study it. "But if you must know, I dreamt about a friend of mine. He was talking about... Some stuff that must have happened after I left home."

"It's not weird. I mean, a weird dream, for me, is when you dream about being chased down by a thousand dementors or something like that," said Charlus, laughing.

"I know, it's just that... It seemed weird, I can't really explain." The witch shook her head and sighed. "I woke up feeling as if I had actually been talking to him because everything he said actually made sense, you know? Usually things make no sense in dreams, but the story he was telling me made complete sense."

"Maybe you're talking with him through your dreams." The boy shrugged, not looking really convinced by his own theory. "Is that possible, Dorea?"

"I'm not sure." The Slytherin scratched her head. "Maybe, who knows? If we can predict the future through dreams, maybe we can actually communicate with someone else through them."

Hermione stared at the other witch for a while. It made no sense... But, at the same time, as she heard what Black was speaking, a tiny feeling of hope appeared inside her. What if she managed to get in touch with Harry and Ron through her dreams? That would be really useful! Not to mention she would be able to know what was going on and if they were all right.

"Dorea, have you ever heard anything about this? This dream thing, I mean," she asked.

"The only thing I've ever heard about dreams is how you can see a person's future with them. That's what we're learning in Divination this year... If you want, I can ask Professor Pesty about it."

"Your Divination teacher? I don't think she would know much about it, it's not really into the Divination field."

"Yes, but I don't think it'll hurt to ask her, right?" Dorea laughed. "She's a really nice woman and is always trying to help us in class, I bet she'll be happy to help you with that."

"Well, if you don't mind..."

"Of course not!" The girl got up. "Actually, I think I'll go ask her right now before I forget. I don't have any classes this morning and I believe there's no Divination class at this time."

"You're going to leave me here?" Charlus winced, faking being hurt by the girl's decision.

"It's not for long." The Slytherin smiled before walking away.

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she watched Potter watch the girl leaving the Great Hall. He really seemed to like her, by the look on his face.

"You really do like her, don't you?"

"What...?" The Gryffindor shook his head and laughed. "Well, yes, she's a nice girl and-"

"Have you ever asked her out? I mean, on a date," said Hermione, feeling as if she was back in her fifth or sixth year, when she used to try making Ginny get closer to Harry as it was obvious the redhead still had a huge crush on her friend.

"We've already been on... dates. Although Minerva was with us."

"You went on a date and dragged poor Minerva with you?" The witch laughed, imagining McGonagall's face during said date.

"Actually, Minnie insisted in going with us," the boy explained. "She said it would be better, especially in case Walburga Black showed up.. As we already said: that girl is nuts, we can never know what to expect from her."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. It was last May but I'm hoping to ask her out again on our next visit to Hogsmeade."

"I bet she won't hesitate to accept, Charlus." Hermione gave him a reassuring smile and patted his forearm.

"I hope you're right, darling."

* * *

Tom couldn't say he didn't enjoy History of Magic; he did, really, but Professor Binns had the power to turn it into an incredibly boring subject. The teacher surely gave them all the information they would need and if one managed to write down everything he said, they would know everything about the history of the wizarding world but still... It was really difficult for anyone to stay awake in his class or to not let their thoughts wander miles away from it. Riddle believed that a simple change in his tone of voice would do wonders to Binns' teaching, but he was in no position to advise the older wizard on how to give different intonations to his words.

"I hate this class."

"I think everyone hates it," whispered Tom as he wrote down the last few sentences Binns had just said.

"You don't."

"I'm not everyone, Abraxas."

"Oh, well..."

"But I do not enjoy the class, I enjoy the subject." The smaller boy raised his eyes to watch as the teacher walked in front of the class, reciting the names of some goblin rebels from the 1929's revolution. "I wonder how much more he'll be able to take..."

"What?" asked Malfoy, changing his position on his seat.

"Binns. He's old, _really_ old." That was true. Cuthbert Binns reminded Tom of one of those mummies he had read about in Muggle history books. His skin looked waxy and was covered with wrinkles, his white hair was messy and his dark eyes looked whitened due to, in the boy's point of view, what seemed to be cataracts. The man's clothes didn't help in his appearance: they were old, smelled like mold and the young wizard could swear it was crawling with moths.

"Well, it would be good for the students to come, right? I mean, they wouldn't have to endure these classes."

"Indeed, but, knowing Binns, I wouldn't be surprised if he came back from the dead just to talk about angry goblins."

"For Merlin's sake, Tom, don't say that!" Malfoy laughed quietly, but quickly stopped – or at least tried to by lowering his head and trying to hide his smile when the teacher looked up at them. "If a class with him is already bad with him alive, imagine a dead Binns teaching."

Riddle let a small smile appear on his lips as he imagined the ghost of Professor Binns teaching a class full of first years. The poor kids would be traumatized and would hate History of Magic for the rest of their lives, which was kind of sad, considering the fact that it was an interesting field.

The boy looked at the Slytherin sitting next to him and saw that Malfoy had already made himself comfortable in a new position on his chair, now practically lying on the top of his desk. Tom glanced across the room only to see that most of the students were just like Abraxas: they seemed to be dying of boredom while sitting in their respective places. The only ones who were actually writing down what their teacher was saying were Hermione Elston, Minerva McGonagall and Irina Akins... And himself, but Riddle wished he could simply drop the act without feeling guilt doing so because all he actually wanted at the moment was to follow Abraxas's example and lie his head down on the table to sleep. The Slytherin didn't have the best of the nights. He kept waking up from time to time with no apparent reason, although he told himself that it was the cold... Even if it seemed weird, giving the fact that they were still in September and the weather was still pretty warm, the wizard could swear his room was incredibly cold during that night. Maybe it was an air stream that managed to get in there through a crack or something like that.

"Are you all right?" Tom almost jumped in his seat as he heard Abraxas's voice calling him. The blond was looking at him with a curious face.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"You were drifting," said Malfoy. "Looked kinda mad."

"Damn." Riddle put down his quill and rubbed his eyes with his fingers, taking a deep breath before dropping back in his chair.

"Bad night of sleep?"

"None of your business."

"Just take a nap here, Tom. Everyone does it. Binns wouldn't even notice."

"I already told you, Malfoy..."

_"You're not everyone," _Abraxas completed his sentence, trying hard not to laugh at the irritated expression that took over Riddle's handsome face.

To both boys' relief, Professor Binns finally announced the end of the class but only after giving them the task of doing a good, long essay about their class's subject. As soon as possible, the two Slytherin were on the first floor's corridor, along with the rest of the students who, until a few minutes ago, were in History of Magic. Tom saw, from amongst his classmates, the greyish figure of Ravenclaw's ghost floating above them and looking down on the teenagers with her serious eyes. It had been quite some time since Riddle had started to try taking some information from the Grey Lady but, until now, the only thing he had gotten was a lot of old stories about the time she was a girl, back when her mother, the great Rowena Ravenclaw, still seemed to love her... not that it wasn't interesting to listen to stories about the founders, but Tom could enjoy it much more after he had gotten what he really wanted.

"Good afternoon, my lady," said Riddle as she floated above him and Abraxas. The woman simply looked down and stared at him with a weird expression on her semi-transparent face before a soft smile spread over her thin lips. The Grey Lady usually smiled when she saw him; after all, Tom Riddle was the only student in the whole castle that bothered to talk to her. This little privilege of having the sympathy of the ghost always made Tom feel important.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Riddle." The woman slowly nodded to him, before giving him a last glance and continue to float away from the students.

"I don't know how you managed to get on her good side," said Abraxas, watching as the ghost drifted away from them. "The one time I tried to greet her, I thought she was trying to kill me with a look."

"You just need to be patient. She doesn't trust people, so you have to gain her confidence."

Tom wondered if that was the reason the Grey Lady had given in to him. Maybe she had sensed that he was like her when it came to trusting people.

* * *

**A/N:** Another chapter that is more like... a filling than anything else. Or not. I don't know. But I hope you liked it (:

Thanks everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed the story, you guys are amazing! As always, feel free to say what you're thinking about the story. Btw, this chapter goes for Vicky, who wisely stated on tumblr that "Tomione" means "feels everywhere" in Russian, Portuguese, English, Sanscrit, Latin and in possibly every other language in the world.


	9. The Trio

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 09: The Trio  
**

* * *

Hermione grimaced when she heard a loud explosion coming from the table next to hers, and only a few minutes later that she had to raise her arm in order to cover her face from the splash of unfinished potion that exploded from Abraxas Malfoy's cauldron. The girl heard Minerva swear out loud and Charlus, after a brief moment of shock, laughing. The Slytherins on the table next to hers were busy doing the same thing as McGonagall: cursing Malfoy in the most varied ways they could think of.

"Mr. Malfoy!" The witch lowered her arm to see Slughorn approaching the table and scowling at the blond boy who was now covered from head to toe in the slimy liquid that was his potion. "What did I say about being gentle when adding the thyme?"

"I did it gently, professor!" the wizard whined, looking down at his now empty cauldron. "At least I thought I was being pretty gentle."

"We can all see your gentleness, Mr. Malfoy. You're lucky this is a harmless little potion, otherwise you'd be responsible for harming at least five of your classmates!"

Hermione looked around. Aside from her and Minerva, who, thanks to the fact of being the closest to their table, had some of the potion on their robes and hair, the other three Slytherins from Abraxas' table were covered with it. Lestrange was still swearing under his breath, wiping the greyish goo from his face; Avery was running his fingers through his dark hair as if trying to get rid of the filth and, then, occupied himself with the task of removing his dirty cloak; and Riddle was quiet, standing next to Malfoy and staring at his cauldron with a serious expression on his face while his usually neatly-combed hair was falling onto his face, sticking to his forehead and falling over his eyes, greasy with the potion. Slughorn was right: had it been another potion, the simple fact of it touching their skins would be enough to send all of them to the Hospital Wing with serious injuries.

"Clean this mess, Mr. Malfoy, and start it all over again," said the teacher, walking away from them, huffing. "Ten points from Slytherin!"

"Great, Abraxas, _great!_" whispered Lestrange, shaking his hands and making drops of potion fly from it.

"_Scourgify_." Riddle's voice was almost inaudible when he said the spell that quickly cleaned the four Slytherins. Hermione wasn't surprised to see that its effect didn't extend to her and Minerva, although she knew that, if he wished to do so, Tom could easily help the two of them with cleaning the mess. "Stop whining and go back to work, Canopus."

"Did you just do a wandless Scourgify?" asked Abraxas, looking over to his housemate as if searching for his wand.

"It's a simple spell; it's easy to perform it without a wand."

"_Scourgify!"_ This time it was Minerva's voice that said the incantation and, soon, Hermione felt her face free of the disgusting liquid. The other Gryffindor smiled at her as she put her wand back in her pocket.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," said McGonagall, going back to stirring her potion. A few minutes later, she looked up, whispering to her housemate. "I really wish I don't end up in Malfoy's group in this project Slughorn is preparing for us."

"Me too." The girl laughed quietly. "Slughorn will be sorting the groups today, right?"

"Exactly. I hope we get into the same group. It would be nice to be with someone who knows how to not blow up a cauldron."

As expected, once everyone finished their potions, (except for Abraxas, who ended up handing in a glass filled with an unfinished potion) Professor Slughorn asked them to stay in the classroom for a few more minutes for him to sort the project's groups and give a potion for each of them. Hermione hoped she would get the Polyjuice Potion... It would be wonderful to work with something she already knew how to prepare, but her hopes were quickly put down when a group of Gryffindor girls ended up getting the said potion. Charlus cursed under his breath as Slughorn informed him that he would be in a group with Walburga Black and Atlas Avery. Septimus ended up with two other Gryffindor boys: Basil Hopkins and George Johnson. Minerva was radiant as she was put in a group with Dorea and Alphard Black who were, according to her, the best Slytherins the house could have.

"Thank Merlin I got a good group," whispered McGongagall as she smiled at Dorea, who was sitting at the other side of the room. "And we got a nice potion too... I mean, the Mandrake Restorative Draught is a good one."

"Yes, you can do a lot of interesting research with that one," said Hermione as she listened to the Potion Master announce another group that would do Veritaserum. "Oh, that one would be nice..."

"Abraxas Malfoy, Tom Riddle and Hermione Elston." The Gryffindor cringed when she heard her name being called along with the Slytherins'. "Amortentia."

_"No way."_ The girl hid her face behind her hands and took a deep breath. "Out of all the potions that we had, how did I end up with the silliest of them all?"

"I bet there are a lot of people who would like to get the Amortentia," said Minerva, trying to comfort her.

"Yes, a bunch of girls who have a crush on a boy who doesn't pay attention to them." Hermione put her hands down and looked over to where Riddle and Malfoy were standing. "And with _them_."

"Riddle is a good potion maker, at least. He'll make up for Malfoy's lack of aptitude."

"The thing is though, I don't think I'll get along with him..."

"Look," whispered Minerva, making the other girl stare at her. "I say all these things about Riddle but I cannot say he's not good when it comes to school work. Get in a group with him and you'll be in a good group; your project will be great. You just will have to stand a bit of Riddle's fake politeness... But, who knows, maybe he'll be truthfully nice with you!"

Hermione looked at the Slytherin again and noticed that he was now staring at her. She couldn't be sure of what his expression meant, but she knew one thing: he, just like her, didn't seem to be looking forward to the project.

* * *

Tom sighed as he stared at Dumbledore, who was walking along the tables, watching his students work with an incredibly silly and useless spell. The boy had already conjured at least ten feathers of various different colours and shapes in the last twenty minutes, but apparently the teacher let his success pass by unnoticed as he tried to help Potter, who seemed to be unable to create a whole feather. He looked over to Avery and Lestrange, who were now busy with playing with the feathers they had conjure and, then, to Abraxas, who was sitting next to him, creating another dark feather with the spell.

"Why don't you try a different one?" asked Riddle, placing his wand on the top of the table, deciding that Dumbledore couldn't complain about him not practicing the spell anymore. "A different feather, I mean."

"How?"

"Just think about a different kind of feather. You're thinking about the ones we use as quills." The Slytherin extended his hand to grab a dark feather that looked exactly like his quill and showed it to the other. "Just think about something different... A different colour or shape."

Malfoy didn't say anything. He simply stared at his wand, his brows furrowing as he seemed to be thinking about what his housemate had just said. Tom kept himself from rolling his eyes... How could someone have so much difficulty with imagining a feather?

"_Penappareo!"_ Abraxas whispered and, to Riddle's surprise, a long, white feather appeared from his wand. The blond laughed out loud as he grabbed the feather and ran his finger through it.

"Good job, Mr. Malfoy." Tom took his eyes from the white feather to look at Albus Dumbledore, who was now standing next to his table, extending his hand to his friend. The other boy handed him the feather and the teacher stared at it for a while. "Beautifully done. A peacock's feather, am I right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Ten points to Slytherin."

Riddle stared at Dumbledore in disbelief as the man walked away, without even taking a look at the pile of feathers the boy had conjured. He closed his hands and took a deep breath, trying to soothe the magic that was getting stronger and stronger inside himself due to his irritation. How he hated it when that old fool did that! And how he hated that stupid twinkle that appeared in the man's eyes as he now stared at him from the front of the classroom. Dumbledore knew very well how much he hated it when he ignored him like that, and yet, it seemed that the wizard enjoyed seeing him on the verge of losing his control.

"Oh, that's a nice one too, Ms. Elston." The teacher took a beautiful blue feather from Hermione Elston. "Which bird does it belong to?"

"A blue-and-yellow macaw, sir." The girl gave him a bright smile that made Riddle's gut turn inside his belly. And people said he was the arse kisser.

"Ten points to Gryffindor, Ms. Elston."

"She's good with spells, isn't she?" Abraxas whispered. He was still playing with the peacock feather. "I hope she's good with potions."

"Yes, I would hate to be the only one good with them in the group." Tom ignored the scowl that appeared on the other's face.

"What about our potion? What do you think of it?"

"It's a stupid potion, Abraxas," said Tom. "A stupid potion used by silly girls in order to get a man."

"Wasn't it Amortentia that...?"

"_No_, it isn't. It was a love potion, indeed, but not Amortentia." Tom sighed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and waved his wand over the feathers on the top of the table, making them vanish. "Amortentia is the strongest love potion in the world and it's a difficult thing to brew... A fourth year wouldn't be able to brew one."

"But it did work..." Malfoy started to say, but quickly stopped when Tom shot him a cold look. "Oh, well." The blond put his hand inside his pocket, taking out a golden pocket watch and opening its lid. "Almost over."

"How long?"

"A few minutes."

Before the class ended, Dumbledore gave ten more points to Gryffindor when Minerva McGonagall conjured a tiny hummingbird feather. As soon as the teacher released them, Riddle jumped from his seat and walked out of the classroom. He was really not in the mood for the old fool's jokes and stupidities... Actually, he hadn't really been in the mood for anything for the last few days. His nights of sleep kept being disturbed during the whole weekend and he was now worried about the time of sleep he was losing.

* * *

Hermione turned her head to look at the person who was making an awful lot of noise while getting up to leave the classroom. The girl was actually surprised to see Riddle as the one stomping like an annoyed child towards the door, leaving a confused Malfoy behind. The witch shrugged, looking back to Minerva, who was now talking about how easy the Penappareo spell actually was.

"What got into him?" the Gryffindor smiled, pointing at the door behind them.

"Riddle? Oh, he's always like that when it comes to Transfiguration classes. I guess it's because Dumbledore doesn't treat him like a god like most teachers do."

"Well, he looked like a spoiled ten year old."

"Indeed." McGonagall laughed. "Oh, I forgot to ask you, what did you think of the Potions extra class today? It was the first one you took, wasn't it?"

"It was nice... Kind of difficult too, I mean, it's not the kind of thing I would think about studying for Potions."

Actually, the extra class had scared her a little. Potions, for her, had always been about knowing how to brew, understanding the ingredients, and the potions' effects and uses. During that morning, Slughorn actually spent a great deal of time teaching them what seemed to be biology in order to explain how the potion they were brewing earlier – a Calming Potion that, according to the Potion Master, would be really useful to them when the NEWTs came up – worked. His explanation was filled with information regarding anatomy and physiology, two things she had never seen being explored in a Hogwarts class like that. By the end of the class, Hermione was actually glad that extra subjects didn't make it to the tests.

"Yes, that's why it's so nice! Also, it's like learning without having the obligation of doing so..." Minerva took her bag and got up, followed by the other Gryffindor. "It's way better."

"I found you!"

Hermione almost jumped as she felt a pair of small hands grasping her shoulders. Turning around quickly, the girl found Dorea looking at her with a silly smile on her face. The Slytherin's hair was a mess and it made the Gryffindor think even more of Harry while looking at her.

"I had been looking for you since the beginning of the afternoon, but then I remembered you take Transfiguration," the witch said as she tried to fix her dark hair with her fingers. "Anyway, remember I said I would talk with Professor Pesty about the dream stuff? I only managed to do it today..."

"Oh, it's all right. What did she say?"

"She said she'll look through her books to see if she finds anything about it," explained Dorea, giving a quick look in Minerva's direction, who was staring at them with a confused look on her face. "She asked you to come to her on Wednesday, after the end of her class which means you should pass by her classroom around nine..."

"Alright, I'll..."

"What are you two talking about?" asked McGonagall, furrowing her brows.

"Hermione wanted to know a few things about dreams and I told her I could ask Professor Pesty about it."

"Divination? _Really?"_ The Gryffindor rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Dorea, I know you like the class but I don't think Hermione is looking for interpretations of her dreams."

"I know she's not, Minerva," said Black in a serious tone. It was odd to see the girl like this. "But Professor Pesty's knowledge is not restricted to dreams interpretation or crystal balls' figures."

"Whatever you say." The taller girl shrugged. "I'm going back to Gryffindor Tower, see you two at dinner."

"I really like Minerva," the Slytherin said, watching as the other walked out of the classroom. "But sometimes she's too close-minded."

"She simply doesn't believe in Divination... I must confess that I don't believe in it either, but as you said your teacher knows more stuff about dreams than simply interpreting them."

"Yes, I believe she does. What was I saying...? Oh! Professor Pesty asked if you would be interested in joining the class!"

"Um, thanks, Dorea, but... No," said Hermione, giving the other girl an awkward smile. She couldn't see herself taking Divination classes again. The witch truly believed that it was a way too unstable field of magic... Also, if the future was something yet to come, it wouldn't be as interesting if they knew what was going to happen, right? "I'm not good with it."

"Ah, Hermione, it'll be _nice_." The Slytherin smiled to her. "We're going o learn a lot about dreams this year, she told us. Also, isn't it interesting, Divination? Knowing the future?"

"I simply don't see a good use of it..."

"Tom Riddle is taking the class," said Dorea. "And he always does what's useful."

"Things that are useful for Tom Riddle may not be useful for me."

"It's your first time in a school of magic, isn't it, Hermione? Then why don't you give it a try? Professor Pesty said she would open an exception for you: she could allow you to take the classes even if you lost the first two weeks."

Hermione looked at Black for a long time. How was it possible that a grandmother was so much like her grandson? The witch knew that persistence from Harry. She remembered very well how difficult it was to take something from the boy's head once he had made up his mind... Like when they decided to invade the Ministry of Magic to go after Sirius, or when he was convinced that they had to save the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort. From what the girl knew, that personality trait had also been passed down to James Potter; after all, from what Harry had told her, his father had been incredibly persistent in trying to get the chance to get closer to Lily Evans. Anyway, Hermione simply wished she didn't notice those similarities between Dorea and Harry because looking at the young Black pleading her to attend to those Divination classes was almost the same thing as having her friend do so.

"I'm not going to promise I'll stick to it until the end of the year," the Gryffindor said.

"_Yes!_ I bet you'll like it, Hermione!" The witch shrank a bit as she thought the other was about to hug her due to her excitement. "The classes are on Wednesday night. They begin at seven o'clock, in the North Tower."

"Alright, I'll be there."

"Good." Dorea smiled widely, turning around and walking away. "See you later then!"

Hermione sighed as she watched the other girl leaving the classroom. The only thing she could hope was that the Divination classes back in the forties were, at the very least, a little less insufferable.

* * *

**A/N:** Another one. Not much to talk about this one. Just... Vicky, dear, darling Brax for you. Ehehehe.

I hope you guys liked this chapter and I know the story is kinda of slow now but I swear it'll come off this... Stagnation soon enough. Thanks to everyone who left reviews on the previous chapter and those who favourited and added the story to their Story Alert (: I hope you keep enjoying it and, as always, reviews are really welcome! :D


	10. A Set of Cards

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 10: A Set of Cards  
**

* * *

"If I were you, I wouldn't underestimate a love potion, my boy. They are strong and Amortentia is the strongest of them all. Just because its name is not as strong as those of other potions, it does not mean it's weak."

"I understand, professor." Tom watched the teacher organize his materials on his table, separating his empty crystal vials from the ones filled with potions of different colours. "But... Surely there must be another group that wants Amortentia more than us. I bet the girls want to take a good look at it."

"Tom, my dear boy!" The older wizard laughed, putting an empty vial on the table and walking up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know you have an open mind, and you should use it now. Amortentia is not, as most seem to think, a _girl's _potion. Believe me, Tom, there's much to learn from it."

"It is a _love_ potion, professor..."

"And what is love but the strongest thing we have in our world, Tom?" asked Slughorn. He didn't seem to notice the boy's face turn into a soft grimace as he said that. "Amortentia is a good potion to work with in a project. Its mechanisms of action have not been completely elucidated yet, you see? That means you can go and find them by yourself! Isn't that great? There's nothing holding you back with this, Tom, and, if you find it difficult to find everything – which, I believe, won't happen -, you can simply bring me what you do know about the potion... I won't take points from you for not coming back with a full description of how Amortentia works. Don't worry about that, but I would love to see what you can bring me, Tom..."

"I... I understand, Professor."

"Good. I'm actually happy you're the one who got the love potion, you know? Other groups would probably stick to the textbook but _you_, my boy, oh, I know you'll go deeper in your research."

"Yes, sir." The Slytherin forced a smile to appear on his lips as the teacher looked at him. "I'll do my best, sir."

"I'm sure you will, Tom." Slughorn patted his shoulder lightly before going back to his table. "Now, let me know if Mr. Malfoy is giving you any trouble. I bet Miss Elston will not be a problem; she seems to be an intelligent young lady with a good hand for potions but Abraxas... I've heard he's a good student but I do not trust him with a cauldron."

"Don't worry, sir. I'm sure Abraxas will not be a problem."

"Good... We don't want your Amortentia be spoiled by him, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Now, Tom, I believe you should go and have lunch; otherwise you'll end up having to rush to... Transfiguration, am I right? Yes. You'll end up having to rush to Transfiguration without anything to sustain you during the whole afternoon."

The boy nodded and said a quick 'good bye' to the man before leaving the classroom with the books the teacher had given him in his arms. As soon as he left the room, Riddle let a noisy breath escape from him as he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. Indeed, Slughorn was right... Amortentia was a strong and rather unknown potion when it came to its mechanisms of action but still, it was a useless thing. The only ones he had already seen using or expressing the wish to use a love potion were young witches whose platonic love for some boy was stronger than their intelligence. Why would someone create a potion for _that_? If love in its natural state was already pretty silly and useless, then the fake love created by love potions would be even more stupid and useless. It was a waste of time to research such a potion.

"Oh, you've got the books then." Tom opened his eyes to see Hermione Elston in front of him. The girl's dark eyes were fixed on him and that familiar annoyed expression that did not seem to leave her face when he was around was also there. "Slughorn mentioned he had them in the beginning of the class but Minerva practically dragged me outside the classroom after the bell rang. Well, there are three books." She pointed to the three books he was holding. "One for each of us." She approached him, quickly grabbing the biggest book. "You and Malfoy can have the other two."

"Excuse me, Miss Elston," said Tom, narrowing his eyes as the Gryffindor turned around. "You got _Moste Potente Potions_... That's the most complete book."

"Yes, that's exactly why I chose it."

"And you left me with two horrible books."

"I bet you can get _Moste Potente Potions_ at the library anytime you want," she said, laughing quietly.

"It's a restricted section book, Miss Elston, and, although you're new here, I believe you understand the meaning of that."

"Of course I do. But I really do believe you can use that..." The girl's eyes travelled up and down on his form before she continued. "_Charm_ of yours to get in there."

"Charm of mine?" The wizard raised an eyebrow.

"Yes... Everyone talks about it, you know? About how charming Tom Riddle is, how he's such a lovely and helpful boy." Hermione's lips curled up in a smirk the wizard was used to seeing on people from his own house, and not on the lions from Gryffindor. "So different from a boy I used to know back in London."

"Elston," Riddle whispered, his voice sounding threatening. "What did I...?"

"What? Aren't I allowed to talk about an old acquaintance of mine?" The girl shook her head, sighing. "But I won't keep you here, Mr. Riddle, enduring my talk about people I know from the Muggle world." She tapped the book's cover, before continuing: "Thank you for getting the books, by the way. I'll try to read it as soon as possible for us to start that project already."

* * *

Hermione had decided that she enjoyed Professor Merrythought's classes. The teacher was actually quite different from what she had expected – for some unknown reason, the Gryffindor had imagined a female version of Dumbledore when she heard Galatea Merrythought was the one teaching Defence Against Dark Arts: with her short stature and petite body, Galatea could easily pass as one the girls that studied at Hogwarts if it wasn't for her greyish, short hair that was, most of the time, tied up on the back of her head, and the few wrinkles that were on her face. But, to Hermione, the most fascinating thing about the teacher was that, behind her apparently harmless form, she had a sharp tongue, a rather dark sense of humour, and huge magical power.

"So, yes, you've already seen this spell before, in Charms, but now you'll learn how to use it in a duel." Hermione watched the woman closely as she walked in front of the class, twirling her wand between her fingers. "The Arctus spell can be a silly one when used by someone on a hot summer day in order to chill, but it can be harmful when used in the middle of a fight. Can someone tell me how a spell can be both harmless and risky at the same time? Oh, yes, Mr. Riddle?"

"It all depends on how the wizard controls the wind he's creating." Hermione turned her head to look at Riddle, who was sitting a few tables in front of her and Minerva. "You have to control the speed of the air movement. The faster it goes, the more dangerous the spell becomes."

"Exactly," said Merrythought as she pointed her wand at Abraxas Malfoy's face. The boy blinked a few times as the woman whispered the incantation. "Mr. Malfoy here just felt the effects of a mild Arctus spell. Now..." The teacher extended her wrist in the direction of roll of parchment that was on the top of her table and muttered the spell. A rather loud whistle echoed inside the room before the parchment divided into two halves that were blown off the table by the rush of wind the spell had created. "And that's a strong Arctus... Had I done this while pointing at Mr. Malfoy's face, I probably would've opened a nice gash on his cheek." The woman stopped and looked at her class while playing with the pearl necklace she always wore – a little detail that Hermione loved. "What are you waiting for? This is a practical Defence class! Get your wands out of your pockets and pair up to practice!"

The students quickly got up and the tables were pushed to the sides of the classroom, leaving a big empty space in the center of it for them to practice. As she and Minerva were sitting together, the two girls ended up pairing up to practice. In the beginning, it was a rather boring exercise... They decided that the best way to start was with really weak winds, just for them to learn for to control its direction, and then, slowly, they would increase the spell's intensity. As she created soft drafts, Hermione looked around to see the other students – boys, all of them, as she and McGonagall were the only girls that chose practical Defence instead of theoretical classes – amusing themselves with blowing air against one another without too much strength and wondering where Merrythought wanted them to go with the spell. The only boy who was actually getting close to what the teacher had done with the parchment was Tom Riddle, who was creating drafts strong enough to push Malfoy back a few meters.

_"Arctus!"_ Hermione heard Minerva's voice and, before she could even notice, a strong wind hit her in the face, blowing her hair back, and forcing her to close her eyes. "Oh, that was a good one! Your turn, Hermione."

The Gryffindor laughed, blinking the dry sensation from her eyes away, before pointing her wand at the other. She concentrated on how fast she wanted the wind to blow; just how Merrythought had said the wizard or witch who performed the Arctus spell should do, before saying the incantation. The girl had pictured a draft strong enough to push Minerva back, like Tom had done to Malfoy, but she didn't expect the full speed wind that was created by her spell and that rushed towards her friend. McGonagall, hearing the loud whistle from the wind, jumped aside, managing to escape from the spell for a split second. The draft, instead, hit a glass bell jar that covered the skeleton of a pixie. The glass smashed, just like the fragile skeleton making a loud noise echo inside the classroom.

Both Minerva and Hermione kept staring at the spot the spell had hit with their mouths open in shock before turning to look at each other. McGonagall, although still with the surprised expression on her face, started to laugh quietly, shaking her head, while the other simply looked down at her wand, not believing what it had just done.

"What in the name of Merlin happened here?" The girls turned around to see Professor Merrythought approaching them, her dark eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "_How…?_ Who did this?"

"I did, Professor." Hermione heard someone snickering behind her and tried to ignore the noise.

"How?" The woman laughed, walking up to the broken skeleton and, with a switch of her wand, put it together once again.

"It got out of control, I'm sorry, ma'am," said the girl while twisting her wand in her fingers.

"It happens, there's no need to worry," she said while fixing the bell jar. "Just work on controlling it next time you use this spell. Had it hit Ms. McGonagall, you would've had to carry her up to the Hospital Wing. A draft as strong as this one would be enough to cut someone."

* * *

The Divination classroom was close to how Hermione remembered it from her time. The circular room with the circular tables, the fat pouffes and chintz armchairs, the colourful scarves wrapped around everything… The only difference was that the curtains were open, which gave the place an aerated look, making it easier for someone to stay awake during the class now that the classroom was not only illuminated by the dim light of the lamps, but also by the sunlight that streamed through the windows. The Gryffindor found herself sitting at the same table as Dorea and Irina Akins, because, even if a few girls from Gryffindor were in the class – Selina and Cecilia -, Dorea insisted that she share their table, reassuring her that she and her friend wouldn't bite or do anything against her.

If the class was the same, the teacher wasn't. Professor Aisling Pesty didn't wear the odd and ragged clothes Sybill Trelawney did… All right, her clothes were colourful, and she had a blue scarf with silver stars on it wrapped around her head, but she didn't seem to be as eccentric as Sybill. As she talked, she kept her hands still and didn't shout out of nowhere, nor did she start to make predictions about her students in the middle of her explanations, which, to Hermione, was a relief. The girl had no idea how much she would be able stand a Divination class if she had to endure another Trelawney.

Their class work was to read the future of their partners on Tarot cards. Hermione, who had no idea how the cards worked and what each of them meant, simply served as the guinea pig of their table: she picked the cards they offered her while Dorea and Irina tried to read her future in them. As the two Slytherins discussed the meanings behind each card she chose, Hermione made a mental note to remember to study those damned cards and what they meant.

"I don't really understand what this means," said Irina, staring at a card with the picture of a man on a carriage pulled by two horses of different colours. "I remember The Chariot means a victory but I also read somewhere it also meant something about unity."

"The Chariot brings change and victory," said the other Slytherin. "But only if it's complete. If you take the horses or the driver away, it won't move… Maybe that's it, right? You have to keep yourself together, Hermione, in order to achieve something you want."

"Keep myself together?"

"Yes, like… When we're under stress, we tend to break down," explained Dorea. "Maybe you'll pass through a lot of stress but if you keep yourself together, in the end, you'll win."

"What have you got here, Mr. Peters?" The teacher's voice sounded from behind their table and Hermione couldn't help but turn around to see if, whoever the teacher was talking to, was someone who was actually able to understand those cards, because Dorea and Irina seemed to be as confused as her.

"Er, there is the Hermit, which means that it's time for him to stay alone, by himself, like the card," a Ravenclaw boy with auburn hair and freckled face explained as he handed the card to his teacher. Hermione couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh when she saw whose cards he was reading. Apparently, Tom Riddle was in every single class of their year because there he was again, sitting next to Peters with an interested look on his face and a somewhat gentle smile on his lips. The girl noticed that, from his little group of friends, Riddle was the only one taking Divination, which, most likely, forced him to get together with the two Ravenclaw boys who were sitting with him. "Also, the Moon, which is the card of magic and genius. Death, symbolizing something that will end." The Ravenclaw boy eyed Tom with a worried look, before continuing. "And the Hanged Man which means… a traitor?"

Professor Pesty took all the cards in her hands and stared at them for a while before waving her hand and making a red pouffe appear next to Riddle. She sat down and put the cards on the desk.

"Indeed the Hermit means you ought to spend some time alone, Mr. Riddle, in order to catch up with your thoughts, but it can also represent a mentor or a friend." She put the Hermit down and held another card for Tom to look. "The Moon, Mr. Riddle, is one you must be careful with. As Mr. Peters said, it is the card of powerful magic and genius, but it's also the card of betrayal and illness, so I would advise you to keep an eye out for these as much as for a trial that may appear in your way. Death," Hermione could see how Riddle moved in an uncomfortable way in his chair, "does represent the end of something, but death is not the only ending that exists… Death is not only about ending; it can mean a change, most of the time a surprising change. And then we have the Hanged Man, which, indeed, Mr. Peters, is also called the Traitor, but it's not because it represents a betrayal, but because he sacrifices himself for a cause and ends up seeing things from another perspective… The Hanged Man also represents suspension between two phases or two worlds."

"That makes no sense, Professor," said Peters. "How can he get Death, which means a change, and the Hanged Man, who represents someone who is stagnant?"

"Good question, Mr. Peters." Professor Pesty extended her hand, showing more cards to Riddle. "Take another two. Let's see if we can understand what they want to say." Hermione watched the Slytherin choose two random cards without hesitating, and give them to the witch. "The Devil. Once again, Mr. Riddle, betrayal, but its greater meaning is ambition, commitment and resourcefulness. Additionally it may suggest an addiction. This one, though..." She waved the other card in front of his face and smiled. "Represents power, creation, an idea, a solution for a problem. When it comes to a person, The Magician, it's talking about someone who has his or her way with words, who has a light hand or a healing hand."

As soon as the teacher stopped talking, a few murmurs started to echo inside the classroom. Professor Pesty kept staring at Riddle with a curious smile on her lips while the boy looked down at the cards in front of him on the table.

"Professor?" It was Dorea who broke the silence. "You said the meanings of the cards but what do they mean as a whole?"

"I don't know. What do you think, Miss Black?"

"That… There'll be a surprising change in Mr. Riddle's future?"

"Good, what else?"

"There'll be power and he may find a traitor," said Dorea, biting down on her lower lip as she stopped to think about how to go on. "But there'll be someone to help him, the Hermit?"

"What about the Hanged Man and the Magician?" asked Pesty, tilting her head.

"I don't know, professor. I guess the Magician also means there'll be power in his future but I'm not really sure of what the Hanged Man is trying to say."

* * *

Hermione was tired and the only thing she wanted was her bed and a good book about Charms or Potions. After a whole period of Divination, the girl needed something less ethereal to work with, something certain and logical.

"Miss Elston?" The girl stopped on her tracks when she heard Professor Pesty's voice calling her. "Miss Black talked to me a few days ago and told me some things about you."

"Ah, yes, it was her who… convinced me to take the classes." The younger witch laughed nervously as she watched the teacher organize the now empty classroom with a few spells. "Unfortunately I don't think Divination is my thing."

"Nonsense, you don't have to be a Seer to give Divination a try," said the woman. "I've never done a prophecy and I don't think I ever will, but I can predict people's future using other methods. Our magic is enough to give us a hint of what is coming, Miss Elston, but it's only a select group of wizards and witches that can have visions and make prophecies. Now, Miss Black told me you were interested in dream interpretation."

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione watched as Aisling sat down on one of the chintz armchairs and gestured to a pouffe. "Although I'm not sure if dream interpretation is the right word for it."

"Sit down, please. If you're interested in dreams and what they mean, why wouldn't it be called dream interpretation, then?"

"I don't really… Oh, well, I'm sorry if this sound stupid or if this is not your area, Professor, but is there any way for a wizard to communicate with another one through dreams?"

The older witch hummed while playing with the tip of the blue scarf that she wore on her head and Hermione wasn't sure if that meant she knew something about the subject or not.

"Did you know that, in our sleep, our body is almost paralyzed? Witches and wizard that study dreams know the differences between the two greater stages of the sleep: the dream sleep and the dreamless sleep. We usually interpret dreams from the dream sleep even if the dreamless actually _has_ dreams. The dreamless sleep is a stage where the whole body is relaxed: you do not move unless it's to change your position, your temperature lowers, your heartbeats and breathing get slower and your brain relaxes. During the dream sleep it's a bit different: you _cannot_ move, your body is paralyzed and the only things that will move are your eyes, your heartbeat and breathing increases and gets irregular, and your brain… Your brain gets mad, really. Your mind hallucinates and that's what gives you your dreams."

"Then dreams are just a physiological process and not something to predict the future with…"

"I didn't say that, Miss Elston. It's a physiological thing, indeed, but who says your magic can't influence your physiology? You probably have already experienced that, when you practice your magic for too long, your body gets tired because magic is part of your body and they depend on each other," explained the teacher. "As I said, those who interpret dreams as a way to predict the future will focus on the dream sleep and I believe that the situation you presented me with would also be referent to this stage… I mean, in order to use magic we need concentration and it's known that during the dream sleep our mind is at its highest when it comes to concentration and activity."

"So, it's possible?"

"It's not impossible. I've read a few studies about this, Miss Elston, but most of them used Legilimens as their object of study, and most of those witches and wizards managed to pass information to someone else when they were asleep. But, as I said, they used Legilimens and we know that those people have their minds completely unlocked."

"I see…"

"I don't know if this is what you were seeking, Miss Elston," said Professor Pesty, smiling at her. "And I don't know if Divination will bring you the information you want but, as the teacher of the subject, I can't help but say that I hope you continue with the classes. I know you don't like it very much, it's clear with the way you were during class, but Divination is not as mad and silly as you think it is."

"I don't think it's mad and… Silly," Hermione said quietly even though she knew she was lying. "I just think it's not really reliable. The cards were a good example of that. One card has so many meanings. How do you know which is the right one? And how do you know the person didn't pick the card simply because he or she wanted to and not because destiny made her choose it?"

"That's the art of Divination, dear." The woman laughed, sticking her hand into her skirt's pocket and taking out a set of cards. "If it was something right and static, it would be mathematics. The interesting thing about it is to be able to interpret the results you get. But I won't keep you here any longer, you must be tired. Good night, Miss Elston, and I do wish to see you here again."

"Good night, Professor," said the girl as she got up and walked up to the door.

"Oh, by the way, which cards did you get earlier when your friends were practicing?"

"I just got one, Dorea and Irina were having trouble with discovering the meaning of the Chariot." She laughed, looking back at the woman.

"Confidence, unity and opposites reunited." Aisling giggled and shook her head. "Make of that as you will, Miss Elston."

* * *

The boy rubbed his face with his hand while trying to fight the heaviness that seemed to have taken over his eyelids. It had been a good few minutes since the class had ended and Hermione Elston hadn't come out of the classroom yet… Not that Tom needed to wait for her or anything, he simply wanted to talk to her and he knew the only way to do so was to get the girl by surprise because, otherwise, she would do everything to avoid him. That behaviour was starting to get on his nerves… Sure, he hadn't really been nice to her back at the orphanage, but how could she expect him to be? He was trying now to gain her trust, mostly because he didn't like having too many people disliking or suspicious of him; after all, Dumbledore was already enough.

Riddle jumped when he heard the noise of the trapdoor that led to the classroom being opened, and straightened himself. Elston didn't seem to notice him at first and it was only after he cleared his throat that the girl turned around to look at him. As always, Hermione restrained herself from appearing annoyed but the Slytherin could see the way her nostrils flared in annoyance, or how her jaw clenched.

"Riddle."

"Miss Elston." He smiled, hoping that, this time, it would work.

"Do you need anything?" she asked, looking around as if trying to find someone else even though they were the only ones there.

"I just wanted to talk about what happened yesterday at Defence." Tom waved his wand at the staircase coming from the trapdoor and it quickly went up, closing the door. "You know, the wild spell."

"I wasn't concentrating, that's all." The Gryffindor sighed, hugging her books to her chest and starting to walk away.

"It's your wand," said Tom, cursing himself for speaking loudly enough to hear his voice reverberate around them.

"My _wand_?" the girl turned around again and raised an eyebrow.

"It's new, I can tell, and it's Ollivander's." Riddle approached her, stretching out his hand. Hermione, understanding his action, took her wand out of her robes and showed it to him but didn't let him take it from her hand. After analyzing it for a few seconds, the wizard took his own wand out of his robes and put it next to the girl's. "Yew, as I thought. And the core?"

"Dragon heartstring."

"As I said, that wand is new, what was your former wand made of?"

"Vinewood."

"Yew is much more stubborn than Vinewood, did you know that?" The boy laughed, stepping away from her and twirling his own wand in his long fingers. "Vinewood is loyal since the beginning, I've read, while Yew must be mastered."

"You're telling me that my wand is not letting me perform my spells?" Hermione shook her head. "Did you forget about how…"She looked around and then whispered. "How it healed your nose? It worked amazingly well back then."

"Indeed, with a light spell, but Yew is made for strong spells… Come on, didn't Ollivander tell you about how it's good with curses and duels? Apparently he didn't." Tom clicked his tongue and licked his lips before continuing. "They are made for _power_, Yew wands, it does not matter what their core is. When you use it with a spell like Episkey, it'll work at its maximum power and the spell will be amazing, but when you use in a curse or attacking spell, it'll also try to work at its maximum… And sometimes you don't want it to be so powerful."

"So my wand wants to beat everyone?"

"Basically, yes." Riddle shrugged. "You need to learn how to control it. And, if you want to, I can help you with that."

"Wait, what?" Tom narrowed his eyes as he watched Hermione start to laugh. "Why would you want to help me master my wand? I mean, _Mudblood_, remember?"

"Because, Miss Elston, I'm Hogwarts' Head Boy and it's my duty to help other students," said Tom in a low, soft voice, while a smile spread across his lips. The Gryffindor stopped laughing and was now staring at him. "And, before you say you can do it by yourself, let me tell you I have no doubt a skilled witch like you can, indeed, master a wand without any help. After all, most children who are chosen by Yew wands do so… But they take their time and they are first years. A teacher won't be bothered with a first year that makes a feather levitate too high because their wand wants power; it's normal and it's harmless. First year spells are harmless because of that: teachers know they're dealing with kids who don't have enough control over magic yet. But seventh year spells are dangerous and the student must know how to control them. Professor Merrythought may have found it funny to see your wild spell today, Ms. Elston, but she won't be so pleased if you do that on her practical test or if the situation repeats itself, believe me."

Hermione remained in silent, watching him. Tom wished he could just use Legilimency against her in order to know what was going through her head but something inside himself stopped him from doing so, saying that he didn't know Hermione Elston very well yet and there was still the possibility of the girl being able to feel his invasion to her mind, and the last thing he wanted was to have someone know about this ability of his. But, reading her mind or not, Riddle could see the Gryffindor was ready to accept his offer… That was good, it would be a chance for him to make her like him, and that would be one less problem for him to think about while in Hogwarts. Also, spending some time with Hermione would allow him to know the extent of her power. Since he discovered she was a witch, Tom couldn't help but become curious – Mrs. Cole would always say that his curiosity would lead to his downfall but he liked to think that it would only lead him to greatness -, especially after she used her magic to fix his broken nose. The boy was quite sensitive when it came to magic, and Elston's magic was strong from what he was able to feel during a simple Episkey spell.

"So, what do you say, Miss Elston?"

* * *

**A/N:** As before, the stuff about this chapter (about Professor Pesty and the Sleep Stages she describes) is on my tumblr (which, btw, changed its URL, now it's **captainbrax DOT tumblr DOT com**, as before it's under the tag _"stuff for fanfiction"). _It took me longer to post this one not only because of the tests by the end of the semester but because I started writing another Tomione fic which I was trying to finish as quick as possible, so I spent a bit more time on that other story, which I'll post here sooner or later.

As always, thank you so much everyone who reviewed it, even the Guest who said that he/she is reading on Nyah and here ehehe :3 about your offer about posting Kolybel on Wattpad, I'll take a look on the website and I may create an account there (:

Reviews are always welcome, you know that, and I hope you liked this chapter. (:


	11. On the Tip of Their Fingers

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 11: On the Tip of Their Fingers  
**

* * *

The Grey Lady seldom spoke; most people at Hogwarts knew that. She was simply a silver form in the background, floating behind students and watching everything. Her mother used to say that those who watched were the ones who held knowledge, and, even though she was just a ghost now, the woman liked to hold knowledge of what went on around her. The castle is her home – it had always been her home, actually – and she couldn't bear to live without knowing what happened inside the place. That was why she watched and listened and rarely spoke. The inhabitants' whispers brought her much more information than direct questions would.

Being so concerned about knowing everything that happened at Hogwarts, the Grey Lady always knew when something different was going on. She felt it when the Heir of Slytherin opened the chamber Salazar had created, and she knew that poor Gryffindor boy was not the one who had done so. And now she had that same feeling, as if there was something going on. The only thing was that no one else seemed to notice anything different from the normal and the woman was starting to doubt herself when she finally saw _him_.

Actually, he didn't catch her attention at first, while she floated down the corridor on the third floor, until the lady realized she didn't actually know his face. She also noticed she had never seen someone on that spot, by the large window that gave people a nice view of the courtyard, much less someone who looked so sad and out of place.

The Grey Lady approached him carefully, slowly floating until she was next to him. Then, after a long moment of silence, she commented on how pretty the grounds looked with the moonlight shining over them. He simply nodded and said nothing. She was not one to start conversations, but the stranger intrigued her, so she told him her name – _Helena_. Helena Ravenclaw, because she did not like the name students gave her – and he didn't look surprised at all, like most people did when they discovered who she really was. When she asked his name, he gave her a short and quiet answer that made her brows furrow. It was an odd name for a wizard, not very common… The woman told him that and he simply laughed, a sad laugh to match his sad face. And it was then that she realized what he really was.

He was not floating like her but he was surely not alive either, which his translucent body and greyish figure made it clear. He was lost in the castle and he did not understand the importance of her name.

The Grey Lady had seen someone like that stranger only once in her life and death.

* * *

"Miss Elston, _concentrate_."

Hermione breathed deeply, closing her eyes while trying to ignore the calmness in Riddle's voice. She had been in the classroom with him for almost half an hour before his politeness (the Slytherin had decided to be polite to her out of nowhere) started to get on her nerves. Tom would do nothing aside from sit in a corner and tell her to concentrate in order to make her wand bend to her will. She was practicing with the Arctus spell for now, aiming it to a pile of old rolls of parchment that were, now, already ragged thanks to her uncontrolled spells.

"I am concentrating," said the girl as she pointed her wand at the parchment once again. "_Arctus!"_

Instead of softly flying away from the desk, as she wanted the spell to do, the draft that left her wand cut the parchment even more. Growling, Hermione hardened the grip on the wand and repeated the spell again and again, getting the same result. The Gryffindor only stopped when she heard Riddle shifting from his position on the desk he was sitting on, getting up and approaching her.

"I find your concept of concentration to be really interesting, Miss Elston," said Tom, stopping by her side and stretching his arm out in front of himself. Hermione automatically prepared herself to attack in case the boy tried to do anything against her. _"Arctus."_

The Slytherin barely whispered the incantation and, in response, the pieces of parchment that remained on the table were pushed back by a soft draft.

"Do it again. This time, make sure to picture the blast of air at a low speed and tell your wand that's what you want to do," explained Tom. "The wand may choose the wizard, but it's the wizard that controls the wand."

_"Arctus!"_ Again, she watched as the parchment was torn to pieces. "Damn it…"

"For Merlin's sake." Hermione heard Riddle's exasperated voice and felt his hands clasp her shoulders. Without thinking, the girl jumped up, startled, and quickly stepped away from his hands.

"Don't touch me!" She looked up to see the boy staring at her with a confused look on his handsome face, and then he sighed.

"All right, I won't touch you," he said, raising his hands, as if he was trying to show her that they were far away from her body. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close your eyes, Elston." The girl almost smiled when she heard a hint of irritation in his voice. Now that was the Tom Riddle she was used to.

"If you try to do anything against me…" she said quietly, doing as he told her so, before hearing him sighing.

"What on Earth could I do against you? Do you really expect me to, I don't know, shoot a Cruciatus curse at you?"

"I don't know what goes on inside your head," said the girl, biting her tongue to keep from saying that a Cruciatus curse was the nicest thing she could see coming from him.

"I'm not mad enough to use an Unforgiveable inside Hogwarts."

"Does that mean you would use one outside the school?"

"Elston, _please_."

"Does it?"

"Maybe." Hermione furrowed her brows when she felt his fingers grasp her robes' sleeve, tugging at it and making her raise her wand arm.

"I told you not to touch me."

"I'm not touching you, I'm touching the fabric of your robes," he said, letting go after he adjusted her arm in the position he wanted it in; extended in front of her. "Now, Miss Elston, what _is_ magic?"

"If I'm going to answer questions, could I keep my arm down so it won't get tired…?"

"Merlin's beard." She heard him sighing and bit her bottom lip to avoid grinning. There was something really amusing about irritating that boy. "Do as you please with your arm but answer me. What is magic?"

"Magic is energy," said Hermione and, just to annoy the other even more, kept her arm stretched out even after complaining about it.

"And to whom does it belong?"

"To the witch or the wizard."

"And what is a wand?"

"An instrument that leads the magic from our bodies to the exterior," she answered. "Like a bridge or something like that."

"Right, but it has its own magic too and that magic interferes with ours." Hermione felt Riddle tugging at her wand and closed her fingers with more strength around it. "Come on, Miss Elston, give it to me."

"And let you disarm me?" She laughed. "No way."

"Alright." The Gryffindor heard a loud noise of something hitting the wood of the tabletop next to her. "Give me yours and I'll leave it next to mine." Hermione hesitated for a few minutes before finally loosening her grip around her wand, letting Riddle take it from her and place it on the table. "You usually feel magic when you hold onto your wand, or when you make a spell, but if you concentrate, you can feel your own magic even when you're wandless."

"I've read about it before," she said, flexing her arm. "And I know we have our own magic; I mean, I remember feeling it before I entered Hogwarts, back when I could do wandless magic without even wanting to." The girl laughed, remembering the day she accidently made her classmate's hair turn blue after said kid mocked her because of her large front teeth. "But I never felt it again."

"Wizards get addicted to the usage of wands," said Riddle. "They use them so much, and are always reminded about how easier it's to perform magic while using them that they forget the greater power is inside their own body. May I touch you now?"

"Why do you want to touch me, Riddle?"

"May I?" Again, his voice trembled, as if he was losing control over his calmness.

"If you can't fight the urge." Hermione took a deep breath, telling herself not to let it show how much she disliked Riddle's closeness. Most of the time, he was just a teenage boy, a Hogwarts student, but she knew that he was also Lord Voldemort, and when she remembered that fact, the mere thought of being in his presence made her shiver… The witch actually still couldn't believe she had agreed to let him "help" her, just like how she could not believe that she had allowed him to drag her to an empty classroom and, then, disarm her. Maybe it was that freaking charm of his, the one she hated so much because she was always seeing other students and teachers melting from his kind words and nice smiles.

Soon, Riddle's fingertips brushed against her palm. Hermione wondered if it could be called a touch because his skin was barely touching hers. She was about to ask him what the hell was he trying to show her with that silly act when she felt an odd feeling on the palm of her hand, on the area bellow his fingertips. It was a warm feeling, like a tingling, that started in a centered area and then spread until it reached her fingers and her wrist.

"Can you feel it?" Hermione nodded. "I'm not using a wand and yet I can still work with my magic. I can direct it to outside my body and, if I want to, I can perform spells like that."

"Wandless magic."

"Yes. I know the size of my own power and, with that, I learned the size of my wand's power. I managed to separate one from another so my own magic can rule my wand's," he explained, and the Gryffindor felt the warmth on her hand slowly fade, retreating to the point where Riddle's fingers touched her, as if it was being sucked back into him. "Learn your magic's size. Learn how much it can work on its own, and you'll be able to know what is yours and what your wand's is."

"And how do I do that?"Hermione asked, finally opening her eyes, and found Tom's cold blue irises staring back at her.

"Perform wandless magic," he said. "Play with your magic, force it out of your body and, then, back inside. Make things float, change the colour of peoples' clothes. I don't know; the kind of things you used to do when you were little and started to show signs of magic. Use your hands… There are theories that say a person's hands are the gateway for their magic. Magic will usually work its way out of yourself through your hands, so… Move your hands when trying to do wandless spells. Make the same movements as you would do with a wand. Make your magic find its way out." Tom looked around before pointing his thin fingers at a chair, spinning his wrist and waving it. "_Wingardium Leviosa."_ The chair floated a few centimeters away from the floor before landing with a soft 'thud'. "Try it."

Hermione did as he said and, on her first try, the chair simply trembled a bit but did not move away from the floor. The second time, though, it floated, even if for just a few minutes, before falling down again.

"That's something already," said Tom, raising an eyebrow, before looking down at his wristwatch. "Miss Elston, as much as I find our meeting interesting, I'm afraid I have to go now."

"Um, all right," she said, quickly taking her wand from the top of the table, and watched as Riddle did the same.

"I'll let you know the next time I'm able to talk to you again about your wand."

"Can it be tomorrow?" asked the witch, and she quickly cursed herself. She sounded desperate. "It's Sunday, so we don't have classes."

"It's alright," he said, and smiled at her. "See you tomorrow, then, Miss Elston."

"See you tomorrow."

Hermione watched as Tom Riddle stepped outside the empty classroom they were using. As soon as he had closed the door behind himself, she asked herself if what she had heard in his voice had really been a hint of interest, or just another faked emotion of his.

* * *

Tom usually enjoyed the meetings he organized with the other boys from Slytherin. It was a good opportunity to see how they were doing their jobs and how his plan was going on, even if it meant having to endure a few minutes listening to a few stupidities that left his housemates' mouths from time to time. That Saturday the boy actually wished he were in bed, or practicing wandless magic with Hermione Elston because, even if any of the other wizards had let a silly remark escape, Riddle simply wasn't in mood to listen to them talking at all, even if their news was good.

"My father took us there during the summer," said Canopus Lestrange, lounging on the dark couch. "We met an interesting family… pureblooded. I managed to talk to their kid, Ivan, about us. He's our age and took great interest in our cause, Tom."

"Good. And what makes you think that this Ivan… What's his surname again?"

"Karkaroff, Ivan Karkaroff."

"Will this Ivan Karkaroff be useful to us?" asked Riddle while pressing his fingers against the back of his hands, snapping his joints.

"His family is influential and has pure blood. Not to mention Karkaroff is pretty good with curses."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I served another wizard, someone who also favours the ancient families and wizarding sovereignty." Lestrange smiled as he noticed the amusement in Riddle's eyes. "That Lord Voldemort would be pleased to have people like him and his family by his side once the time comes for him to act."

"That's wonderful, Canopus," whispered Tom. "Will you keep in touch with him?"

"Yes."

"Do you really think it's good to meddle with those people?" asked Avery, grimacing. "Father says Russians are too mysterious for one to trust. They use some weird kind of magic that only they know and…"

"And isn't that good?" Tom's lips curled up to form a soft smile. "The more different kinds of magic we find, the stronger we get."

"I think we should aim at Germany." Atlas crossed his left leg, setting his ankle on his right knee, and grabbed the lower half of his leg with both hands.

"Most of Grindelwald's followers are in Germany," replied Malfoy, twisting his nose and furrowing his brows. "They are not going to abandon their leader in order to pledge allegiance to someone else who is still in the beginning of…"

"Do you really think Grindelwald will last much longer?" asked Avery. "The man has good ideas, I do recognize that, but he's too selective and pompous. I've heard he's not doing very well in his attacks in France."

"He was unlucky…"

"Yes, aiming at families whose members were actually Aurors." Atlas snorted. "No wonder he doesn't come to Great Britain. I bet the Ministry puts an Auror at each corner in every city."

"No, the Ministry is not really bothered by him. Prepared in case he appears in the middle of London, yes… But actually putting their efforts to work? No. They don't want to scare people."

"Whatever. As I said, I think we should pay more attention to Germany. I have a few mates there and, actually, I already talked with one or another about us. They seemed to be interested in our proposal," said Avery. "Also, America, has anyone thought about them?"

"It's kinda difficult to find someone our age who's interested in politics and magic there," explained Tom. "At least not with our interest… They start to practice their magic at Salem at the age of twenty. Until then, most of their witches and wizards are homeschooled or go to smaller magical schools, but they are not as immersed as we are in magical politics and all that stuff."

"Brazil then?" asked Abraxas. "They have a wizard as their president."

_"Vargas?"_ Riddle narrowed his eyes as he recalled hearing about the man back at the orphanage.

"The Mudblood," whispered Atlas, rolling his eyes. "What, Abraxas? He _is_ a Mudblood."

"He was an ally to Grindelwald, even if most people didn't know."

"And how do you know that, Abe?"

"Father told me," said the blonde. "He has a few acquaintances who know Vargas. Apparently he's a hell of a clever man."

"He was allied to Germany until he noticed they were getting weaker," muttered Tom, remembering what Mr. Macmillam had told Mrs. Cole once. "No… He was neutral but had a thing for the Axis, and declared Brazil to be with the Allies last year."

"What is an axis?" Lestrange eyed the smaller Slytherin, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Germany, Italy and Japan. The Allies are the countries who oppose the Axis."

"Is this about that Muggle war?" Canopus exhaled noisily. "I really don't know why you waste your time with that Muggle stuff, Tom."

"It can come in hand," explained Riddle, steepling his fingers and smirking. "We wouldn't want Getulio as an ally, believe me. If the man could turn his back to the Axis and Grindelwald as soon as he saw how they were losing power, I wouldn't expect less than having him doing to same to us. Also, Brazil is too mixed up… They do have a lot of interesting magic, I heard, but they are too mixed. I believe Ondine School _alone _exceeds Hogwarts in the number of Mudbloods. Imagine if we consider the other schools of the country."

"If you say so." Abraxas jerked his shoulders. "But I would give it a try."

"So, for now we have spread the word to Germany, Russia, France…"

"France?" asked Tom.

"Yes, we found some people there. Hmm… Oh, I remember now! There was another Russian bloke who showed interest in your cause, Tom," said Lestrange. "I have no idea how he found out, but he came up to me in Moscow and asked me about the Lord Voldemort I told Karkaroff about."

"I think someone overheard you, Canopus!" Avery chuckled, covering his mouth with his fist.

"I believe, Atlas, that Canopus is capable of knowing when to cast a silencing spell around himself, am I right?"

"Then how could a random passerby know what Lestrange told the other guy?" Atlas pursed his lips and gave his voice a tone that seemed to challenge the other Slytherin.

"Legilimency, obviously," answered Tom matter-of-factly.

"Come on!" exclaimed Lestrange. "I would know if someone entered my mind!"

"Good Legilimens are not felt when they invade people's thoughts." Riddle smiled and, just for a bit of amusement, touched Canopus's mind carefully. The boy didn't even flinch. "That bloke must be really good with Legilimency. What was his name?"

"Dolohov," said the other, and Tom couldn't help but notice how Abraxas perked up on the couch. "Antonin Dolohov. He's a few years older than us, though.'"

"Keep in touch with him and with Karkaroff, Canopus, if you please…" Tom interrupted himself when he heard the entrance to Slytherin's common room opening. The wizard quickly grabbed his wand and waved it, lifting the silencing spell he had set around them, and turned his head to see Walburga Black and Druella Rosier (a sixth year with dark eyes and long brown hair that was, most of the time, styled in complicated hairdos) walking in. Black's eyes quickly found the group of boys and she smiled lovingly before waving at them. "Good evening, Miss Black."

"Good evening, Mr. Riddle," replied the witch while her friend giggled and whispered something into her ear as they kept walking to their dormitory.

"Now, if you would allow me to say something, Riddle." Lestrange said, looking at the corridor which the girls had disappeared into, "I would give a chance to Walburga."

"What?"

"Walburga Black, the pretty witch that just talked to you, Riddle. I would give her a chance, you know? Date her."

"Merlin's beard, Lestrange, it's not as if I…"

"…Had time to spend with a girl?" completed Avery, laughing. "Everyone has a few minutes to spare in order to relax a bit in the company of a lady_, my lord_," said the Slytherin with a mocking tone. "Especially a lady like Miss Walburga Black."

Quickly, the focused atmosphere of their meeting vanished, making way for casual conversations and jokes shared amongst the boys. Tom forced himself to stay there for only a few minutes before he got up, giving them the excuse of an unfinished essay, and headed to his quarters.

* * *

Hermione placed her dark quill on the top of the front table of the classroom and stepped back. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With her wand safe in her pocket, the witch focused on her own magic, trying to lead it to her hands the way Riddle had told her. After a few minutes, she could feel a warm tingling in her fingertips and smiled. Raising her arm, Hermione flexed her wrist and, then, threw it out quickly while picturing a current of air.

_"Arctus!"_ The girl opened her eyes in time to see the quill being pushed back by a rather strong draft, but not violent enough to damage it.

To her surprise, wandless magic was becoming less complicated ever since she started doing it like Tom Riddle had taught her on the previous day. Apparently, concentrating her magic in a specific part of her body made it easier to control, allowing her to perform some simple spells like Wingardium Leviosa, Accio, Impervius, and Alohomora.

"That was better than yesterday." Hermione turned on her heels, startled, when she heard a voice behind her.

"For Merlin's sake, Riddle, couldn't you just knock first?"

Tom was standing by the door, watching her carefully, before approaching the girl. Hermione couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and the tired expression on his face.

"Bad dream?" The witch chuckled and then pointed her hand at the quill again, whispering a hovering charm.

"What?" he asked, and the time he took to speak again, along with the tone of his voice, confirmed the Gryffindor's thoughts.

"You didn't sleep well tonight, am I right?" She smiled, lifting her hand and saw the feather doing the same movement. "You look tired."

"Classes tire all of us."

"It's Sunday." The girl ceased the spell, letting the quill slowly drop to the top of the table. "Besides, your face is the face of someone who didn't sleep very well."

"Alright, alright, I didn't sleep much last night." Riddle breathed out heavily, raising his hand to brush his eyes.

"Too much homework to do?" Hermione smiled to herself. "I managed to do most of mine after you left yesterday."

"Homework kept me awake until one in the morning." The Slytherin squinted his eyes. "And I, too, finished mine already."

"Good for you, Riddle."

"Yes, good for me, Elston," he whispered. "You managed to do the Arctus spell without a wand, that's good… And, as you see, you managed to control its intensity without the wand's magic getting in your way. Did you practice any other spells?" Hermione quickly listed the other spells she had managed to do wandlessly. "Shall we try a more complicated one?"

"For me that's okay… Riddle?"

"What?" The boy looked up as he was pocketing his own wand.

"Why are you doing this? Helping me with my magic…"

"As I said, it's my duty as…"

"Cut this Head Boy excuse, Riddle." Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "We both know it's not part of your job to practice spells with any student. Just like how we know you don't like me very much thanks to the fact I'm a Mudblood."

"I've never seen a Muggleborn call herself a Mudblood." The girl felt the need to swipe off that stupid grin that appeared on Riddle's face but contained herself.

"It's just an ugly name," she said, smiling. "We should not fear names."

"You think so?" Tom raised a dark eyebrow as he eyed her.

"They are just names," stated the Gryffindor, locking her eyes into Tom's. "And the fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself."

"Interesting way of thinking. Now, quit babbling and make the quill vanish."

Hermione looked at the boy for a few seconds before turning to the quill again. It was a different kind of spell… Until now she had made things move, now she had to make it disappear.

"It's the same principle," said the wizard, extending his arm and pointing at the chair behind the desk. "_Evanesco_."

The girl was not surprised to see the chair disappear, just like how she wasn't surprised to see the smug smile that appeared on Tom's lips. At the sight of the boy's delight, Hermione actually considered the possibility of Riddle only doing that in order to show off to her… The Gryffindor couldn't help but put herself in his place while analyzing the situation: Tom was the best student of his class – maybe the best student in the whole castle – and, well, back in her time, she used to be one of the best students too… Riddle already had a competitor, McGonagall, and now he also had her. And were there any better way to scare his rivals aside than showing them how much he could do? Minerva had spent years sitting in the same classroom as him, knowing the extent of his powers, but Hermione was new and he had to show her that he was better than her.

Oh well, that was just _too_ amusing for her.

"All right." The Gryffindor pointed her arm to her target and concentrated, once again feeling her magic pooling on her hands. "_Evanesco_!"

She immediately looked to Riddle, after all, Hermione couldn't miss how his blue eyes widened as the table, and not the quill vanished.

"Was it good?" She smiled triumphantly.

"Yes. It was all right."

The witch couldn't help but think that the time she spent with Tom Riddle in that classroom was like a crazy and funny challenge. She had no idea how many spells she had managed to do that afternoon, nor could she even think about how much energy she was losing with that silly show of power between the two of them. The only thing she was sure of was that she loved to see the curious, yet annoyed, glint that appeared in Riddle's blue eyes each time she managed to accomplish one of his requirements.

* * *

**A/N:** Stuff about this chapter (about Getulio Vargas and the brazilian schools of magic) on my tumblr, under the tag 'stuff for fanfiction', **captainbrax DOT tumblr DOT com. **Also, Thams, I have no idea if you're reading this, but if you are... You've got a Helena for you, darling!

Guys, thanks so much for the reviews and follows/favs. They are amazing, ok? I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, as always, feel free to tell me what you think of it. (:


	12. Strangers to the castle

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 12: Strangers to the castle  
**

* * *

Hermione pushed the library's door open and poked her head out to see if there was no one who could run into her there. It wouldn't be wise to step into a rather crowded corridor while carrying a pile of books in her arms.

Ever since her meeting with Riddle, Hermione had tried to gather as much information as she could about controlling magic and wandless magic. She was rather surprised at how much nonsense she managed to come across while searching for books she could make a good use of – like a witch whose entire book talked about how magic was granted to witches and wizards by wind spirits that whispered gentle words into babies' ears – but aside from those strange and, she thought, useless books, she managed to find some good texts about the subject. Now she just needed to read all of them, select the pieces of information that could help her, and use them in her practices. Riddle wanted to meet up with her again in a week and she wanted to be able to fulfil any task he would give her.

As soon as she could, Hermione got out of the main corridor of the floor in order to avoid the incoming crowd of students – fourth or fifth years, from what she could tell – that were leaving their classes that afternoon. She stepped into a smaller and emptier corridor that, she knew, would lead her to the stairs that lead to her common room. The girl was lost in her thoughts about the few things she had managed to read in the books she had gotten from the library when a soft voice caught her attention. Her heart skipped. It sounded familiar and, yet, she couldn't remember who it belonged to, although she knew she had already heard it in her own time.

Slowly walking to a corner from where the voice seemed to come from, the witch hesitated, trying to make out what they were saying – _"You shouldn't be afraid. Just do what you must!"_ - before turning to see who was the speaker.

"Ah…" Hermione couldn't hide her disappointment as she saw that the familiar voice belonged to no one else but a greyish ghost of a woman floating next to a window. The ghostly figure quickly turned around and stared at her. The girl had never been the target of those stern eyes before, and she decided that she did not like being in that position. "Hello, my lady." She bowed her head quickly, but the ghost didn't do anything. "How are you?"

"I'm as good as I can be in my situation," the Grey Lady's voice echoed, sounding hollow and bored as she turned to the window once again.

"At least you have someone to talk to…" the witch said quietly, already turning on her heels, and not seeing how the ghost's head snapped around to look at her.

"What did you say?"

"That you have someone to talk to," said Hermione, stopping and raising an eyebrow. "I heard that you were talking to someone, but don't worry. It was not my intention to eavesdrop on you, my lady, so I did not even get the subject of your conversation." The hard lines formed by the furrowed brows of the lady slowly softened as she watched the witch. "But it's good to see you have someone to talk to. Everyone told me you were rather lonely."

"I'm not," said the ghost, raising her chin as if to look superior. "I have a… friend."

"That's nice." Hermione smiled, trying to remember when she decided to start a friendly talk with the most reclusive spirit that inhabited Hogwarts Castle. "I mean, I also would like to have a friend if I… If I…"

"If you were in my situation," completed the woman, sighing.

"Yes." The girl smiled apologetically as she tried to come up with something nicer to say. "Is it the Fat Friar? Your friend, I mean. I heard the Friar is a really nice person…"

"I've known the Friar for years now and, although I do consider him to be a good man, it was not he I was talking to," said the ghost, casting a quick look to her previous spot near the window. "You do not know him."

"Oh, I see. It's a new ghost. And where is he now? Did he run away because I showed up?" she laughed quietly. "I'm sorry; it's just that I couldn't think of a shy ghost."

"Yes, he's shy. You are talking about this friend of mine as if he is a stranger to the castle, a stranger to you, but I do not recall seeing _you_ walking inside these halls before," whispered the Grey Lady, narrowing her eyes as she approached Hermione.

"I just got here this year."

"So you are also new to Hogwarts."

"Yes."

"And your name is…?"

"Elston, my lady, Hermione Elston."

"Hermione Elston," the ghost repeated, as if trying to see how the name felt on her tongue.

"Erm, it really was a pleasure to meet you, my lady," sad Hermione, smiling. "Oh, and that friend of yours… Whatever he has to do, tell him to not to be afraid of doing it. I know this advice works more for the living, but you never know when it will be your last chance to do something."

The woman furrowed her brows while staring at her and, before she could say anything, the girl turned around and fled. Although she had rather enjoyed the talk with the Grey Lady, she still had a lot of things to do; books to read and homework to do, so she left quickly. In no time, she reached Gryffindor tower.

"Hello, Minerva," she said as she approached the table near the window where McGonagall sat with a pile of books by her side.

"Hm, hi." The other Gryffindor looked up from her book and laughed quietly when she saw Hermione putting her books on the top of the table. "Wow, is that all for History of Magic? I tell you, Hermione, if you got all of those books just to write a few pages about the witches of Salem…"

"You're one to talk, right?" The witch laughed, pointing at the books McGonagall had with her, as she sat down in front of her friend. "What's all of this for?"

"Transfiguration," Minerva said, showing her the cover of the book she was reading.

_"Inner Animals: The Art of Animagic,"_ read Hermione, smiling as she remembered the first time she saw Professor McGonagall become a tabby cat in front of her class. "Are you planning on becoming an animagus?"

"Why, yes." The witch smiled. "I've always been fascinated by them. I mean, can you imagine how useful it can be to be able to transform into an animal?"

"You're right… I heard it's extremely difficult to become one. Not only is it magically difficult, but the Ministry also has a really complicated process of becoming a legal animagus."

"Well, when you think that we have to learn how to modify our bodies into an animal's and still keep our conscience, trying not to mess up our minds and bodies… Yes, it seems like a pretty difficult thing to do." McGonagall shrugged, but a playful smile appeared on her lips. "But, come on, who's the best in Transfiguration in our year?"

"Hm, Tom Riddle?" Hermione joked, laughing when she saw the girl's eyes narrow.

"Riddle is good, but not the _best_." She puffed out her chest. "I usually don't like showing off my abilities, but Transfiguration really is my thing. It's what I love to do and what I do best due to how much I love it."

"I know, Minerva," the bushy haired girl smiled. "And I'm sure you'll become an animagus without even trying that hard."

"I hope so, Hermione, I hope so… Oh, and what are these books all about?" McGonagall grabbed the book on the top of Hermione's pile and looked at its title. "_Understanding Magic: How is Magic Part of the Wizard and How to Identify and Control It_" Minerva's eyes found hers as the girl stared at her with a curious look. "That looks pretty interesting."

"It is."

"Oh! Before I forget." Minerva bent over to grab her bag and pulled a yellowish envelope from it. "It arrived earlier. It's for you."

The girl quickly took the letter from her friend's hands and studied the clumsy handwriting on the envelope. Ollivander's handwriting.

"Thank you, Minerva," she said, getting up and picking up her books before leaving for the dormitory, hearing a slightly confused McGonagall say something like 'you're welcome' as she left.

As soon as she got to her bed, Hermione let the books fall on the top of it and drew the dark red curtains closed, as Florence and Cecilia were also in the room, talking as they sat on Cecilia's bed. The witch took her wand out of her pocket and whispered a '_Muffliato'_ before grabbing the letter and opening it.

_"Dear Hermione,_

_I have good news for you. I finally found someone who will be able to help us when it comes to understanding time magic. His name is Horace Resande and you may know him for a few books he has written about the said subject. I ended up contacting him through a good acquaintance of mine who already had the pleasure to work with him. I still have to set a meeting with Mr. Resande, something I'll do as soon as possible. We'll be able to talk to him about everything. I must ask, are there any specific questions you may want me to ask him? Let me know, please._

_I know it's not a great advance in our research, Hermione, but I thought you would be happy to know the first step is taken. Also, this letter is an excuse for me to send you your friend's letter._

_I hope you're enjoying Hogwarts and that you're doing well._

_ Garrick Ollivander."_

By the end of the letter, Hermione couldn't help but smile widely. As Ollivander had said, it was a small step, but still, it was better than nothing. She put the paper down and picked up the other letter that was carefully folded into the envelope.

_"Dear Hermione,_

_It's good to hear you're doing well in school, dear. You're lucky you're there and not here in London. This place is becoming hell with the German attacks… You were so lucky we didn't have any raid during your staying here! Just last week I thought I would die if it weren't for your friend, Mr. Ollivander. Yes, I know, it's odd but let me explain: I had left the orphanage to buy a few things Dr. Mazarovski needed when the alarms on the streets went off. I had already experienced those attacks before, but only when I was at the orphanage. There I knew that the wisest thing to do was to hide in our basement until the raid ended but, while on the streets, I don't know what came over me… I guess I got scared and forgot everything I had to do. I was lost and had no idea where to hide when I heard someone calling me. It was Mr. Ollivander. He looked even crazier that day but, mad or not, he practically dragged me to the nearest subway station where other people were hiding. We stayed there until the attack was done and, thank God, nothing bad happened to us. I believe I must have bored him with the nervous breakdown I had down in the subway, the poor man… The next time you talk to him, remind him of how thankful I am to him, alright? _

_Now, on a happier note, here I am to give you good news! Martha is pregnant. Yes! Her and Dr. Mazarovski first child! Isn't that lovely? She's so happy and Alexei, ah! You have to see how he is! I even caught him humming a song one of these days._

_Oh, yes, Martha asked me to ask you to tell the news to Tom. As I already told you, Riddle was really close to her a few years ago and he is pretty close to Alexei._

_Please, write soon, telling me how you are doing at the school. I hope everything is alright._

_With love,_

_ Anna Parker."_

* * *

Sometimes Tom felt uncomfortable with how much he saw himself in Hermione Elston. Sure, she was raised by loving parents from what he understood from her story, and she had been homeschooled by a magical family, but he could still see himself every time the girl raised her hand in class and waited impatiently for the teacher to call her, or when she managed to perform a spell the right way and puffed her chest, looking around with a satisfied smile on her face. It was Tom all over again… Maybe a younger Tom, when he was still in his first three years of Hogwarts, when he showed his pleasure at being awarded a point or two for Slytherin much more. It was rather addictive, those compliments and extra points he got from teachers, and he knew Elston also felt the same way towards these things. He could see it in her all the time, and it was rather relieving to know that there was someone else that took it seriously.

_"Aguamenti."_ Riddle watched as Hermione managed to make a handful of water appear out of thin air without the aid of a wand and nodded as she looked at him, as if looking for a sign of approval.

"That's good," he said, moving his fingers and making the liquid that was dripping from her cupped hands take the shape of a sphere.

"We could move on from these wandless spells, don't you think?" asked the witch, watching as he played with the sphere of water. "Or at least try spells that are not so easy."

"Like duelling spells?" asked Tom, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe… I mean, aren't those spells my wand seems to have problems performing?"

"Your wand does not have problems with performing strong spells, Miss Elston," explained the Slytherin, closing his fingers and making the water ball disappear. "The problem is that _you_ can't control its intensity."

"Alright, the problem is with me, I get it." Hermione sighed, sitting down on the top of one of the tables, crossing her ankles. "I wanted to get a hold on it by the time of the next Defense class. This week I didn't do anything besides getting hit by Minerva's spells."

"You could have practiced with her…"

"Minerva is my friend and I don't want to hurt her like I almost did thanks to that wand," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh, so that's why you agreed with me helping you." Tom laughed. "It's easier for you to hurt the Slytherin snake instead of your dear Gryffindor friend."

"I did not say…" Hermione started to say, but sighed midsentence. "I accepted your help because you were right when you said teachers would expect me to have full control over my wand, because you are good at Defense and because you also own a Yew wand."

"If you say so, Miss Elston." Riddle got up from the chair he was sitting in and straightened his grey coat. "But we'll leave these duelling spells for next time, if you don't mind. I asked Professor Merrythought to make the next Defense class purely theory, and we have more important things to deal with right now…"

"More important things?" The girl narrowed her eyes as she watched the Slytherin walk over to where he had left his bag, taking a book out. "What is that?"

"Potions project. Today is Friday and we have nothing else to do this lovely night." He pointed to the darkening sky outside the window. "And, as we're already here, I asked Abraxas to join us in order to start working on this…"

"And you didn't even think about asking me if I agreed with this, right?" The Gryffindor crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I knew you would be free today after History of Magic, otherwise you wouldn't be able to meet me for practice." Tom smiled and Hermione felt the urge to wipe that stupid smug smile from his pretty face. "Abraxas will be here soon…"

As if he had foreseen the future, the classroom's door opened and a blond head poked inside. The girl grimaced when she noticed how much Draco Malfoy looked like his grandfather as Abraxas greeted Tom and walked in.

"Good evening, Miss Elston," said Malfoy, smiling. She simply nodded her head in response. "Tom, I was reading about Amortentia and it seems to be quite easy to brew, I mean, when compared to the other potions Slughorn put in this project."

"Of course it is," Hermione said. "Or did you expect a love potion to be as complicated as the Polyjuice Potion? Amortentia is about creating an illusion of love while the other potions are way more complicated… Polyjuice is about literally changing a person's body; Mandrake draught deals with releasing the body from a petrified state; Felix Felicis works with the environment around the drinker and the drinker's thoughts, and Veritaserum is all about making the drinker confess the truth. They all have much more complex results than our potion."

"The way you talk, Miss Elston, makes me believe you didn't look up on Amortentia," said Tom, smiling at her. "You pointed out how all the other potions interact and change the drinker's body or his mind, but that's exactly what the love potion does."

"It's an _illusion_, Riddle. If I were a good Legilimens, which, sadly, I'm not, I could make you believe you were in love with me and have the same result."

"That's where you are wrong." Riddle's smile widened as he continued to explain. "An illusion messes up a person's ideas. It's not much different from me trying to convince you with simple words, you see? Amortentia is not only about that. This potion ties the drinker to the potion maker on a much deeper level."

"Weren't you the one who said this potion was boring as hell?" asked Abraxas, looking at his housemate with curiosity. "A potion for silly witches, as you said."

"Well, that's what it is," whispered Hermione.

"A stupid pre-concept I had of it before reading more about how it works, just like Miss Elston here," explained Riddle, approaching the other two and putting the book he was holding down on the table.

"_Human Physiology_?" the Gryffindor asked, arching up an eyebrow as she stared at the book's worn out cover. "You are telling me that Amortentia works its way within our bodies while messing up with our physiology?"

"Slughorn said there's still a lot unknown about the Amortentia. I thought it wouldn't hurt to look it up in this just to see if there was anything useful and, surprisingly, there was."

"Where did you get a Muggle book?" asked Malfoy, grabbing the book. He started to look through its pages, looking awed.

"Hogwarts has a few Muggle books in it." The blond promptly raised his eyes, surprised.

Hermione blinked, her attention drifting away from the boys' conversation. Lord Voldemort was reading a Muggle book and telling them they should use its information for a school project about a magical potion. Was that really what Riddle had just said? Voldemort, the man who hated Muggles, was giving them credit for something and wanted to use something written by them in order to understand a magical thing? She wondered if her travel back in time had changed something in the universe, and was now changing people's personalities or something of the sort.

"You and Miss Elston can work on the potion itself if you want to." Riddle's voice brought her out of her thoughts. She shook her head and looked at the two other teenagers. "And I can work on the research of the mechanism of action."

"I guess that'll work," said Abraxas as he put his hand inside his coat's pocket and took a pair of rounded glasses out of it, quickly putting them on his face. "Because I don't understand a thing about what they're talking about in this… What's a Broca's area?"

"It part of our brain. Is that all right with you, Miss Elston?"

"And you're not going to work on the potion?" asked Hermione, giving a quick look over in Malfoy's direction. Apparently Tom understood her worry about being left with Abraxas to work on a potion by the look on his face.

"I'll help you, don't worry. I just need the two of you to deal with the rest of the theoretical part of the project: the description of the brewing, introduction, objectives…"

"We'll do it." Malfoy smiled.

"Don't you think you're, ahm, seeing things where there is nothing, Riddle?" asked the Gryffindor. "I know you also didn't like the potion we got, so, maybe you're seeing a connection between physiology and Amortentia because you don't want it to look like a simple potion…"

"Or maybe it's you who is refusing to see the obvious."

"I'm just saying this because I don't want us to waste our time on useless research while we could be exploring useful points of the potion, like illusionist charms and other things that may be in the love potion."

"For Merlin's sake, Elston, it's not a stupid illusion!" growled Riddle, rolling his eyes.

"The chances of being an illusion are way higher than it being a complex reaction with the drinker's physiology! Everything we read about the Amortentia says that it creates an illusion of love, why do you want to insist on-?"

"Everyone used to say that magic didn't ex-" Riddle started to speak but quickly interrupted himself, swallowing his own words. "Everyone used to say that magic didn't make teleportation possible until Awyr Teithio proved them wrong and created Apparition."

"That's not the same thing."

"Of course it's the same thing-!"

"Miss Elston." Abraxas Malfoy's voice was almost muffled by their argument and it seemed that the boy quickly regretted talking to her when he saw the look on her face. "I think it won't hurt to let Tom do this research the way he wishes to do so. I bet he won't spoil our project."

Hermione looked from Malfoy's apologetic face to Riddle's now smug one and growled quietly. Why did she have to end up in a group with two stupid Slytherins? Of course they would guard each other's back, especially Malfoy, who would do anything to give his _master_ all the reason.

"Whatever you say. It's not as if my opinion has great importance here," she growled. "Gather up the ingredients we'll need for that potion, will you, Malfoy? I think we should start brewing it soon. Amortentia can be stocked, so we can finish it before the presentation and it won't spoil until then."

* * *

**A/N:** Hey :D It's been some time, but here is chapter 12. Thank you so much everyone who reviewed the fic until now, you guys help me a lot with those reviews! I hope you enjoyed this chapter too :) Also, thanks to Shadow6116 for beta reading the chapter.

On my tumblr there are a few things about this chapter, under the tag 'stuff for fanfiction'.


	13. Closed minds

**A/N: **This chapter was not beta read, I'm posting this today for a special reason.

* * *

**Kolybel'naya**

**Chapter 13: Closed minds  
**

* * *

"And she killed Dobby."

"What?" asked Hermione, furrowing her brows as she stared at Harry.

"He helped us to escape, but Bellatrix stabbed him on our way out," the boy explained, looking down to his own hands. "He managed to Apparate us to Bill's house, but died right after."

"That horrible woman." The witch shook her head, cursing Lestrange as she felt her eyes burn with tears. "And… How are you? And Ron?"

"We are all right. We are staying at Shell's Cottage for the time being, until we think of what to do next. We think there is a horcrux inside Bellatrix's vault, in Gringotts, by the way she acted when she thought we had gotten the sword from there." Harry sighed and this soft sound echoed around them. Everything echoed in that strange place where they were now. "But we can't simply walk into her vault…"

"You would have to break into it."

"Yes."

"But you can't," said Hermione, feeling her insides turn upside down. "_For those who take, but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn," _she repeated the words she remembered reading on the bank's front door the first time she walked into it. "_Thief, you have been warned, beware of finding more than treasure there." _

"I always thought it was incredible how you can remember the exact lines you read from books or anywhere else." Harry gave her a sad smile as he reached to hold her hands. "Quirrel broke into it when we were in our first year, remember?" He chuckled, squeezing her fingers as if trying to comfort her. "Besides, how many rules have we broken since we entered Hogwarts?"

"Way too much, that's for sure."

"And we have Griphook, the goblin, at our side now. He can help us to get into the bank. He knows everything in there."

Hermione stared at her friend's face and felt her heart ache. While she was able to recover from everything she went through during the time they were hunting horcruxes, Harry didn't. His face was paler than usual and there were dark bags under his eyes, along with a few bruises and cuts on the rest of his face. His hair was even untidier, if that was even possible, and extremely long for what she was used to see on him. He looked exhausted, hurt and scared.

"Be careful, please." She felt a knot forming in her throat along with the tears that welled up in her eyes. "I wish I was there to help you…"

"Hermione, everything will be all right," said the boy, smiling again.

"Polyjuice potion, try to find some of it. I bet Mad-Eye had a stock of it, try to contact the Order. Disillusionment charms, illusions, invisibility- _Oh no_."

"What, Hermione?"

"The cloak," whispered the witch, closing her eyes tightly, feeling Harry's fingers leave her hands. "The cloak was in my bag! And it _still_ is in my bag! God, no, no, no, no! Harry-!"

When Hermione opened her eyes again, there was no Harry Potter in front of her, just like she was not standing in the middle of the white, dream-like place from before, but lying down on her bed, staring at the wooden ceiling from Gryffindor's dormitory. Her breath was ragged as she felt the tears finally streaming down her cheeks, followed by silent hiccups she couldn't hold back. Sitting up on the bed, the girl put her hand on the space between the mattress and the headboard, grabbing the purple beaded bag and opening it. She quickly found what she was looking for and was now holding a silvery cape between her trembling fingers.

"Damn it!" The witch tossed the cloak to the other side of the bed and buried her face in her hands. Harry and Ron were after horcruxes, fighting Death Eaters and running against time to defeat Voldemort, while she was stuck in 1944, at Hogwarts, studying, chatting with Death Eaters and taking advice from Voldemort… And, yet, she had the Invisibility Cloak. "Damn it…"

"Hermione?" The girl's head shot up as she heard someone calling. It wasn't Minerva's voice and she couldn't really recognize it.

"Y-Yes?"

"Are you all right?" Emma Hooper. Yes, that was the girl who was talking to her. She could hear the heels of the other witch's shoes hitting the wooden floor as she approached her bed.

"Yes," she answered, cleaning her throat. "Of course."

"Oh, good. It's just that I thought I heard you… Never mind." Hooper sighed. "Well, just so you know, Minnie already went down for breakfast. I know the two of you are always together."

"Ah, thanks, Emma."

"You're welcome." And her footsteps quickly disappeared from the dormitory.

* * *

Tuesdays were supposed to be nice, interesting days. They usually were, as Tom had two of his favourite classes in that day – Charms and Defence – but, from time to time, the boy couldn't stand Tuesdays. That was one of these days… Maybe it was because Avery insisted in being in a horrible mood that day thanks to the fact he woke up to find Abraxas' Jarvey – which now had a name: Flamel, after the alchemist Nicholas Flamel – gnawing on his cloak; or because Lestrange kept talking about the incident, making Atlas get even more irritated; or even because of Malfoy, who kept telling them about how the animal was not doing it on purpose which also helped to increase Avery's bad mood. Aside from his housemates, the fact Charms' class was pretty boring also made Riddle want to skip the rest of the day.

His only hope, for now, was that Defence would be more interesting. According to professor Merrythought, they would have a theoretical class – not that Tom minded it, he actually enjoyed theoretical classes way more than the rest of his classmates – and the knowledge of this made most of the other wizards and witches – actually, the only two witches that took the practical classes – enter the classroom and find their places almost as if they were crawling on the floor. Riddle quickly made his way to the first row of tables where, a few minutes later, Malfoy joined him. He could see by the corner of his eye Elston sitting next to Septimus Weasley a few tables behind them while McGonagall and Potter sat in another table next to the other pair of Gryffindors. It took only a few minutes until everyone found their places and Merrythought appeared in the classroom, walking among the tables and greeting students.

"As I told some of you last week, today's class won't require the use of your wands, so you can put them down." The teacher smiled as she walked up to the front of the room and looked at the teenagers in front of her. "Last year I had a few students asking me to teach them about duels. Now, isn't it what we study in here? How to defend ourselves in a duel?" She waited to see a few kids nodding. "But if I put you in the middle of a proper duel, would you know how to act? Mr. Spinnet, what would you do if you were in a duel against, lets say, Mr. Avery?"

"Ahm, I would attack him?" A wave of laughter echoed inside the classroom and Riddle turned around to look at the blonde haired Gryffindor who was now blushing furiously.

"Mr. Avery?"

"A strong Arctus spell?" Atlas shrugged.

"A good guess, indeed. Now, if you were face to face with a dark wizard, Mr. Avery, and you were allowed to use curses, what would you do?" asked Merrythought, running a long finger along her lower lip.

"The Curiaossa curse?" Although it was a good curse, Tom wanted to slap Avery in the face for mentioning this one. They hadn't learnt it in class, a teacher would never teach a curse capable of cutting bones with a simple switch of a wand.

"A very good one when it comes to a serious duel, Mr. Avery," said the older witch, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the boy. "And _where_ would you hit the opponent with this curse?"

"Their head?"

"Yes, you would split their skull open, but are you sure you would succeed in striking their head?" Merrythought laughed at the Slytherin's confused expression. "Can anyone tell me why the head would not be a good target?" Tom's hand was already rising in the air when the teacher spoke again. "Yes, Miss Elston?"

"It's a small target when compared to the rest of the body."

"Excellent. Where would you hit the opponent, Miss Elston?"

"Their legs, so they wouldn't be able to walk." Riddle smiled. It was a good target, indeed, which would immobilize the other dueller.

"Anyone else wants to take a guess on the best part to strike with a curse that allows you to cut a person's bone? Ah, yes, Mr. Riddle?"

"Their chest," said Tom, smiling and raising his chin.

"And why is that?"

"You can cut their ribs, sternum and collarbones depending on where the curse hits." The smile on his face widened as he thanked Alexei Mazarovsky for the book he had given him back in the orphanage.  
"Broken bones are extremely sharp and any of these bones could end up piercing through their lungs or pericardium. This single attack could not only immobilize the enemy, but kill them."

"That is great, Mr. Riddle. Both you and Miss Elston were right." She looked around and started to pace in front of them. "But what I want you to understand today that a duel is not only about strong spells and dangerous curses. I'm not here to teach you exactly how to fight, there's no specific formula for something like that, each person has their own fighting style, but as the Ministry prohibited the Duelling Club, saying that it was _useless_ and _dangerous_." The woman rolled her eyes and the class laughed quietly. "You are not able to train your duelling skills unless you want to end up with a detention, then I'll try to explain to you the way _I _duel. As I said, each wizard or witch has their own way to attack an opponent, but it's nice to have something to guide you and prevent you from looking like an idiot trying to do complicated spells and getting hit by the first curse the enemy shots in your way."

The older witch waved her wand at the clean blackboard and a piece of chalk floated in the air and started to write something on it.

"Imagine you are in a duel and you have to fire the first spell, which would you choose: a powerful curse that would finish the opponent in a few seconds or a simpler spell that would delay them?" There was a loud babble around the students before the teacher cleared her throat again. "What are the chances you actually hit the opponent with your powerful curse that would take most of your strength? They are really low, if you want to know. In a duel, people keep moving; they won't stand still and wait until your spell strike them. Knowing this, what would you do?" She pointed at the blackboard where now there were three words written on. "Tire, Confuse and Attack. The first two can swap places any time or you can use only one of them, but they are important and underestimated parts of a duel. First, you make your opponent tired! Magic is part of us and, just like when you run around the castle, if you use too much magic you will get tired. You can use this in your favour. You can use simple spells to provoke the other wizard or witch, inducing them to use stronger spells that will tire then. Can anyone give me an example of a spell I could use here?"

"Diffindo?" a voice from the back of the room said.

"Very good, Mr. Black. Actually, you could mention any spell and they would be correct, even a silly Bat-Bogey Hex. Now, 'Confuse'… What would you do to take the opponent's attention away from the duel?"

"The Confundus charm?" This time it was Minerva McGonagall who spoke.

"The best example of it, but is there anyone who can think of something more… Original?"

"Tinnitus, Labirinto and Lychnus Oculos?" asked Tom, seeing a small smile appear on the teacher's lip.

"All of them are correct. We can also put, before the proper attack, an immobilization spell like… Immobilus or Petrificus Totalus, of course. Now, from this moment on, you will have a tired and confused enemy. It'll be way easier to actually strike them if they are debilitated like that. You could use a Expelliarmus, a Curiaossa or even an Avada Kedavra and your chances of getting the target right would be way higher than if you started the duel by doing so."

* * *

"But is there anyone who can think of something more… Original?" Hermione saw Minerva frowning upon hearing the teacher's answer and tried to think about useful spells in the situation the witch was putting them in.

"Tinnitus, Labirinto and Lychnus Oculos?" Riddle's voice echoed in the classroom and the Gryffindor girl felt the urge to tell him to shut up. It was as if the boy knew exactly when she was trying to think in order to answer a question and managed, not only to interrupt her thoughts, but to think about a better answer faster than her. It was irritating.

She looked at the Slytherin boy and furrowed her brows. Had Harry and Ron been there, she could bet they would make fun of her, saying that this was how everyone felt like when she kept answering all the questions their teachers asked in class. Actually, Harry and Ron would have lots of fun with Tom Riddle, after they stopped thinking about ways to finish him off… She could only imagine how many silly jokes Ron would make about his neatly combed hair or about his paranoia about being the best in class; meanwhile Harry would laugh at everything, making sarcastic, sassy remarks about the Slytherin. And Hermione would follow them in their laughter; of course, she always ended up doing so.

"Professor?" the girl called in a low voice, not really knowing what she was going to say. It was just a random idea that came up to her mind as she thought about Harry. "Is it possible to use Legilimency in order to confuse the opponent?"

Merrythought stopped talking and stared at her for a moment before smiling.

"Now that's what I'm talking about when I said I wanted something original!"

"Mind reading?" Septimus, by her side, asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Legilimency is far more complicated than mind reading, Mr. Weasley," explained Galatea. "Legilimency is being able to enter someone's mind and not only look into it, but also to meddle with it. An experienced Legilimens has a weapon more powerful than the Imperius curse in their hands… Can someone tell me the difference between using a Imperius curse and Legilimency to control someone?"

"The curse controls the movement, but the mind is intact." Again, Riddle's voice. "While Legilimency makes the victim's mind submit to the attacker's power."

"In other words, when you're under the Imperius you can think on your own, your mind is still _yours_," said Merrythought. "And when you have a Legilimens attacking you, your mind won't be yours anymore, but _theirs_. They'll be inside your head, whispering commands and making it seems that it's you who want to do certain actions. So, yes, Miss Elston, Legilimency is not only a great weapon to distract, but also to manipulate someone."

"Professor Merrythought?" Hermione turned to see Tom, once again, calling for the teacher's attention. "I'm not sure if this question fits in this class but… We know there are wizards and witches who can resist to an attack using Legilimency, the Occlumens, but is that a possible thing to happen with Muggles? I mean, we know there are no Legilimens amongst Muggles, but are there Occlumens?"

"Mr. Riddle's question is a truly interesting one," said the witch, pocketing her wand and entwining her fingers in front of her abdomen. "Not really into the subject that is being discussed here, but I think we can stray a bit from duels in order to talk about this. First of all, you must understand, Mr. Riddle, that Legilimency and Occlumency are natural talents. Yes, you can train and end up mastering them, but a natural Legilmens or Occlumens will always be better than a trained one. There are some people who are born being able to touch other's thoughts and some who are born with their mind so shielded it takes almost all the strength of a Legilimens to break into it. You were actually wrong when you said there are no Muggles able to perform Legilimens, Mr. Riddle, there are. Of course they can't do it with as much power as a wizard can, but they do exist… Muggle seers, for example, that can guess their client's life only by touching them. Stop laughing, Mr. Lestrange, I'm being serious here. If you want a more believable example, think about doctors, aren't they the ones with the power to discover what their patients feel and to make them comfortable? Not all of them, of course, but there are a great number of doctors who are like that… Muggles say they are only good at understanding people, that they are good with empathy, while wizards know this easiness to put themselves into other's place happens because of this ability we call Legilimency."

"Now, if Legilimency is subtler when we are talking about Muggles, Occlumency can appear as strong as in a wizard. It's not common, or at least there are not many researches regarding this, but there are a few registered cases… Has anyone ever heard of Rasputin?" A few students nodded, Hermione and Riddle included. "For those who don't know him, Grigori Rasputin was a rather mysterious man that served as some kind of counsellor of the Russian imperial family. There are people who believe he was a wizard while others say he wasn't… The thing is, Rasputin did a lot of things that could be assigned to witchcraft, but he never used a wand and claimed to be a holy man. This made his status as a wizard a mystery... It's doubted that even the emperor knew if he was or not one of us."

"Wasn't the emperor a Muggle?" asked Avery. "He wouldn't know if he was a wizard."

"The governor of every country knows about the existence of a wizarding world, Mr. Avery, as you must already know." Merrythought narrowed her eyes while looking at the boy. "In Russia's case, in special, the magical and Muggle community are way more mixed than in a country like England. Muggles and wizards, there, have been associating with each other since the times of the first Tsar, Ivan IV, or Ivan the Terrible. Ivan was the first Russian governor to make a deal with wizards, a deal that ended up with the creation of the _Oprichnina_, a kind of secret organization that was created to put down anything that would oppose to the emperor and which was composed of highly skilled wizards, _dark_ wizards, who would use their magic to keep Ivan on the power. Mr. Riddle, you and Miss Thorpe must know one of the members of the _Oprichnina_…"

"I'm afraid I don't know who you are talking about, professor," said Tom, furrowing his brows.

"On the entrance to the Head's dormitories there is a painting of a man, right? That young man is Fyodor Basmanov, one of the members of this organization. There are rumours that he was, in fact, Ivan's lover… Who knows? You could ask his portrait, and take the chance to tell him your Defence teacher finds his dress lovely." The witch laughed, receiving odd looks from her class. "After a while the _Oprichnina_ was dissolved and it was a crime to even mention them. Muggle history says it is because Ivan noticed they were making more mess than anything useful, wizarding history says it is because someone managed to change Ivan's mind about magic, making him believe that magic was evil… Sure, what those wizards were doing was evil, dark magic. Anyway, I'm not here to teach you History of Magic, you can ask professor Binns about the _Oprichnina_ later, he surely knows everything about it. I mean, the man almost threw Basmanov's portrait out of a window when he came to work here… I also don't know why they would put a portrait of a madman on the Head's dormitory, but who am I to question our former headmasters?" Galatea sighed and leaned against her table, appearing to be tired. "I just said all of this to show you how tangled the wizarding and Muggle world are in Russia. After Ivan, wizards and Muggles began to associate again and, by the time Rasputin appeared, there were lots of wizards and witches in the court, powerful wizards and witches who, suddenly, saw themselves being replaced by a common man who claimed to be a saint and that seemed more like a lower class wizard. That's why we don't know if he was or was not a wizard. Some people say he was, some said he was just a lucky Muggle… I believe he was one of us. He did way too much stuff not to be using magic."

Hermione took a deep breath as she let her body slid down her chair. This was supposed to be a nice Defence class… Not that she didn't like History of Magic, but she doubted knowing about Rasputin would be useful for them. From what she knew, Grigori Rasputin was one of the reasons the Russian empire fell. He and his mysterious death.

"There are stories about how Rasputin could easily manipulate people and, if you look at a photo of him, you'll know it is not because of his good looks." A few students laughed at this remark. "He was a common man that appeared out of nowhere and, suddenly, was inside the emperor's house, associating with the imperial family and with the nobility. And now you want to know why I talked so much about this man… You see, when you read about him, you'll read about another man called Felix Yusupov, Prince Felix Yusupov, who was one of the men involved in Rasputin's murder. It's said that Yusupov managed to get away from Rasputin's '_powers'_…"

"So Rasputin was a Legilimens?" asked Tom, his eyes fixed on the woman's face as if he tried to cling to every word she said.

"Everything indicates that, yes, he was. And Felix, a Muggle, managed to escape from his Legilimency. I've known people who know Prince Yusupov and they say he still talks about the 'mad monk', as people used to call Rasputin, and that once he explained what he felt while talking to him. He said it was as if he was being controlled, as if Rasputin had some kind of power that took over his body and mind… Not completely, thought, as he managed to remember this and to not submit to the man's powers. Now, when the day you cross paths with a Legilimens come, I beg you to ask them to get a grip on your mind for a few minutes and then you can come to me and tell me what the sensation was. I bet it will be the same thing prince Yusupov described."

"In other words, you're telling us that it is possible for a Muggle to escape from the kind of magic even wizards some times can't escape?" asked Avery before pressing his lips together in order to restrain a laughter but that was not able to hide a sneering smile that curled up the corner of his lips.

"Mr. Avery," whispered Merrythought, approaching him and resting her thin hand on his shoulder before tapping it lightly. "Young people like you should stop believing in the idea that magic is an exclusive thing of wizards and witches. Just how we have magical folk with less magic than others, there are Muggles who have a bit of magic in them."

* * *

Hermione brought her hands up to her ears as she felt a high buzz echoing inside her head. From behind the annoying noise she could hear Minerva's laughing and pushed down the need to tell her to shut up. Although Defence class that day had been purely theoretical, during the extra class after it professor Galatea Merrythought had allowed them to practice a few of the spells they had mentioned during her explanation about duels.

"This is horrible!" whispered Hermione, closing her eyes as the buzz grew louder and louder in her ears. "Make it stop, Minerva, please."

"All right, all right." Suddenly, the noise was gone and she could, once again, think straight. "Did I do it right?"

"Considering the fact I couldn't even think with that ringing in my head, yes, you did it right."

"Good! Now it's your turn, will you do the Tinnitus too?" asked McGonagall, smiling as she put her wand down on her lap.

"No." Hermione lifted her hand, pointing the tip of her wand at the other girl's face. _"Lychnus Oculos."_

"Merlin!" Minerva laughed, quickly blinking her eyes. "No wonder those spells are good to make someone loose a fight."

"Did it work?"

"Yes, I'm not even able to see you anymore!" Another laughter escaped from her lips just before someone bumped into her. "Ouch!"

"Sorry, Minnie!" It was Septimus Weasley, who was now holding the girl's shoulder as if to steady himself. "Wow!"

"What spell did Charlus use?" asked Hermione, watching as Potter approached them, trying to avoid the spells flying across the room.

"Labirinto. He saw Hector using it on Basil and thought it would be fun to practice."

"It is fun!" Charlus, who had finally reached them, laughed and held his hand out so Weasley could hold it and let go of Minerva. "Come on, once the effect is over you can try it on me. Ah! Look over there and tell me if this spell is not funny!"

Potter pointed to the other side of the room, where Tom Riddle stumbled on his feet, his arms stretched out as if to try to find something to hold onto, while a laughing Malfoy approached him. Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she waved her wand and lifted the spell from McGonagall so she would be able to see what her friend was showing them.

"How are you doing here?" The four Gryffindors turned from the sight of Riddle and Malfoy and found Merrythought standing near them, her lips curled into a smile.

"Great, professor," said Charlus.

"I see you put a nice Labirinto spell on Mr. Weasley." She pointed to the red haired boy and Septimus simply apologetically smiled at her. "But could you explain to me how it works?"

"It messes with his balance?"

"You're not wrong, but to be more specific, it messes with his vestibular system, a tiny little thing that is inside his ears. It gives us all the sense of balance and orientation on space. That's why you can't even stand without feeling like you're about to fall down, Mr. Weasley."

"Good to know." Septimus smiled. "And when will the effect wear off?"

"It usually takes a few minutes until it happens, but I can help you with this now." She waved her wand and Weasley sighed, relieved, before letting go of Potter's hand. "Did you try any other spells? Girls?"

"I used the Tinnitus on Hermione and she used the Lychnus Oculos on me," answered Minerva. "I guess Tinnitus interferes on how we perceive sounds around us, right?"

"Actually, the Tinnitus has nothing to do with the outside, Miss McGonagall, but with the inside of your head. It over-stimulates a tiny nerve inside you ear and makes you hear the noise. There is another spell called Auris Intensio that has the same effect, but that makes muscles around your middle ear clench, resulting in an annoying noise too." Galatea shifted her weight on her feet before continuing. "As for Lychnus Oculos, it will not interfere on the function of your eyes, as many people believe, but of your nervous system." She smiled to them before she looked around and sighed. "You're doing great, my dears, but I think I have to go help Mr. Riddle to get hid of that Labirintus spell Mr. Malfoy cast on him and now can't lift off."

* * *

Tom still felt rather dizzy from the effect of Abraxas' spell, even thought Merrythought had already lifted it a few minutes ago. At least it was a good excuse to go back to his room before dinner and lie down for a while, a good way to escape from a few minutes of listening to Atlas bringing back the subject of Malfoy's stupid pet. Now, as he stared at the ceiling, listening to the door next to his room open and close as the Head Girl walked in and out – most likely to drop her material before dinner – the Slytherin kept remembering what his professor that told him earlier that day.

_There are Muggles who have a bit of magic in them. Magic is not an exclusive thing of wizards and witches._ Riddle could only laugh at it. There was nothing magical about old Mrs. Cole and her mania for tidiness, or about Sebastian Turner and his stupid need to prove himself that would certainly make him end up in Gryffindor had he been a Hogwarts students, or even about Martha, sweet Martha who tried to treat all the children at the orphanage as her own… But, now, if he wanted to think about the epitome of a non-magical person he only needed to think about his father, a common Muggle that had absolutely nothing special in him. It was funny to think a great witch like Galatea Merrythought could think that Muggles were able to perform any kind of magic, even if it was subtle and accidental.

But still…

_No._ Tom told himself that her opinion didn't really matter. Merrythought was, indeed, a powerful witch, but she was growing old and with age came the silly ideas, the illogical theories. If the old woman wanted to believe that Muggles were magical, he couldn't do anything about it… Not that her thoughts would be a great trouble. She was old and old people die everyday, it wouldn't take too long for her and her theories to vanish from Earth.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter has a lot of little explanations that you can find on my tumblr, under the tag 'stuff for fanfiction', like: the way the spells used work, the Oprichnina, Fyodor Basmanov and Felix Yusupov. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last one! Thams, darling, if you are reading this, I posted this chapter today because of you and your birthday, all right? Also, I don't think Antony reads this, but this chapter was highly affected by his Salazar and his Legilimency stuff ehehe (also, lets play that really nice game called 'how many references can Ari make to Tom Riddle Sr in a story that takes place after his death?')

Anyway, as always, reviews are great! Feel free to say what you're thinking of the story :)


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